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A light was on in the room. The glow beneath the heavy wooden door permeated the inky darkness of the abandoned lighthouse. My aging bones ached from the climb, and I paused to catch my breath, wondering whether to knock.
I’d come for solitude. Finding the room at the pinnacle of the old stone structure occupied was as astounding as the time I caught an eagle feather falling from the sky.
It happened when I was a child. I loved to romp in the woods and spent hours hiking to my favorite spot, a clearing near an overhanging cliff. Flat on my back gazing at the sky, I traced the flight of a bald eagle as it soared from its nest at the peak of a nearby mountain. Its cry pierced the silence and cast a shiver through my bones–the good kind. Then a feather floated down and I reached to catch it right above my chest.
I’d counted it a miracle and kept the feather prominently posted on my desk like a holy relic.
Years later, my Native American college buddy, Tommy, informed me it was an auspicious sign. “The eagle must be your totem–that’s why you’re a loner.”
“Really? What does that mean exactly?”
“The totem spirit guides you. Eagles are independent, like you–but they’re also powerful. One day, you’ll be a leader, like a Shaman.”
“Whatever.” I ruffled his hair, trying to make light of the matter. He was the only person I felt comfortable opening up to. It tore my heart to pieces when he died in a car crash. I’ve never been close to anyone since.
At fifty-five, it’s a bit too late to cultivate deep relationships. The serenity of silence is my greatest friend, so I prefer to be a hermit. People in town think I’m strange, but I don’t mind. It keeps everyone at a distance.
I won’t knock on the door. I want to be alone.
The door creaked open, and a balding head peeped out from behind it. I jumped a step backwards as his head lifted to reveal a jovial countenance. The old man’s eyes twinkled beneath the shadows of his bushy white eyebrows. “You’ve come.”
“Uh…”
“I’ve been expecting you.” He gestured for me to come in.
“Uh…” I hesitated and tried to catch my breath, shifting from one foot to the other. “Do I know you, sir?” I entered the room tentatively and glanced around. A round window and a skylight allowed tapered light to filter in. Two wooden chairs and a table stood at the center.
“You do not yet know yourself, so how could you recognize me? I know you, though!” His twinkle grew brighter and his eyes seemed to shoot beams of light. I blinked, blinded. His lighthearted tone was enigmatic, as if he were enjoying a private joke.
“How do you know me, if I might ask?”
“I knew you before you were born in this life. I’ve known you for many, many centuries. But you don’t remember all that, of course.” He sat on a chair and motioned for me to do the same.
“I…I…I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.” I fidgeted as I lowered myself to the stiff wooden chair.
His throaty laughter filled the dimly lit room and echoed off the solid stone walls. “Of course you don’t.” He chuckled some more. “How could you? You’ve lost your long-sight self-awareness. It’s taken three whole lifetimes before you were ready to see me again.”
“Huh? Lifetimes?” This guy must be crazy. I eyed the door, ready to flee if needed. “All I know is this one lifetime.”
“Exactly!” Giggles erupted as he clapped his hands. “But I can remedy that if you’ll let me.”
Against better judgment, curiosity compelled me to ask, “How?”
“Go and get your eagle feather and bring it back here.” His tone grew serious, almost gloomy–and the sudden shift drew my full attention. “Hurry. There’s not much time. You must return before sunset.”
“What do you mean?”
“Just hurry!”
A bold energy filled my bloodstream and propelled me toward the door. I crept down the stairs and picked up my pace as I reached the bottom. Stumbling over rocks, I raced to the parking lot and paused to look back. A strong, briny breeze blew through my hair, invigorating me.
The sun had begun to decline behind the towering lighthouse. Maybe an hour or so before it’ll set. I turned toward my car.
***
I don’t even know the guy’s name. I swiped my prized eagle feather from its perch on my desk and wrapped it in a white terry cloth towel. What am I doing this for? I must be crazy, too. My thoughts rambled on in this vein but that did not deter my making haste to reach the lighthouse in time. Why on Earth would there be a time limit to bringing a strange old man my eagle feather?
I reached the lighthouse just as the sun began to kiss the horizon and hints of pink stained the sky. The cries of seagulls broke the silence. It seemed as if nature itself wanted me to hurry.
A cellular vibrancy stirred in me as I scaled the steps. I felt ten years younger and my bones did not ache. A dim glow spilled onto the stairway from the partially open door. The old man sat just where I’d left him, appearing calm once again.
“I knew you’d make it, as the prophecies are always true–as long as we cooperate with them. Something inside you knew the importance of this.” He giggled again, which was disconcerting and comforting all at once.
“I’ve no idea why I’ve come.”
“You came because you had to. The world needs awakened souls to come into alignment to maintain the balance of existence. At present, there’s too much darkness–ignorance.” He lit a candle sitting on the wooden table and then switched off the electric lights. “We must be swift. You must remember who you are before it’s too late.”
“Too late for what?”
“Evil forces gather against the world. At midnight, they plan to overthrow the balance. They gain power through collective intensity of focus. We must do the same. Together, and with help from the universe, you and I can hold them at bay, but this will work only after you’ve tapped into your power by remembering yourself.”
“I don’t understand.” I let out a sigh of frustration. This guy makes no sense. “I’ve not lost anything. I know my own name.”
“You’ve forgotten that you’ve forgotten. That’s the influence of the dark force of ignorance. You don’t even know you’ve lost a great treasure.”
He lifted an abalone shell from a shelf and placed it next to the candle. Grasping what looked like dried twigs tied in a bundle, he held them near the flame and lit them like incense. “Sage. It will purify the atmosphere and facilitate your journey.”
“My journey to where?”
“To remembrance.” The old man appeared younger, radiant in the flickering candlelight. I felt in awe of him, mesmerized by his movements as if they were magical. He placed the sage in the shell. “Be still now,” he said in a hushed yet potent voice as he unwrapped my eagle feather. His words carried vigor and my mind obeyed, staying silent. “I sent this feather to you when you were but a boy. It has great power. A feather that falls right into your hands without touching the ground has strong medicine. It invokes energy from all of the four directions, and especially from Grandfather sky.”
His hypnotic voice chanted strange words in subtle rhythms. The unusual language seemed paradoxically familiar. He drew close, holding the eagle feather over the shell of smoking sage, and waved it to wash the smoke over me, head to foot and back again. The fragrance enveloped my senses from within and without. My mind was a blank slate–all thoughts vanished as if transported by the smoke.
I was aware of myself as separate from my body, and all perceptions seemed to filter through an invisible screen of awareness, as if I were an unaffected witness viewing the scene from the sidelines. The old man touched the tip of the eagle feather to my hands, my feet and then my forehead. He placed his hand on top of my head and let it rest. He grew quiet and I was aware of only light and a silent humming vibration.
***
I regained normal consciousness half an hour before midnight. I had no words to say, feeling both amazed and humbled by the overwhelming amount of memory retrieved from my subconscious–a huge file had downloaded containing data spanning centuries.
I remembered everything about the old man, who’d been my teacher for numerous lifetimes. “How could I have forgotten you?” I cried. “How could I have forgotten the prophecy, and my spiritual duty?”
“Son,” the old man whispered, “you only forgot on a superficial level. You needed to develop certain things before allowing the memory to blossom. A part of you knew your calling. That’s why you never married or had children, and also why you love solitude–except for Tommy.” He smiled softly. “You and he have been spiritual brothers for a dozen lifetimes. I made sure your paths crossed in the right time, and that he would remind you of your duty to lead. Now, you’re ready. The time has come.”
“I now know what we must do. I’m ready.” The awakening revealed every detail of events, as if I lived through all those lifetimes simultaneously in a single moment.
The old man had lived by many names, and I still did not know his name in this lifetime, but names were irrelevant. Our duty was to send our consciousness inside the dark force–to plant seeds of transformation from within the darkness, rather than battling it from without.
***
We blew out the candle. Holding hands, we prayed together and then began the process of synergizing our energies and entering the center of darkness.
A swirl of golden light danced within. It spiraled slowly upwards through our spines and then shot out the top of our heads, spinning through the skylight.
The energy linked in to a network of other souls observing similar rituals spread across the globe as well as spiritual souls who had passed on but kept tuned in, including Tommy.
We became lighthouses for humanity.