An Allegory
By Rick Brown

 
Chapter 1—Prologue

 
* * * * * 

      The vessel steamed through the day and deep into the night.  Sam couldn’t sleep, so he slipped on his deck shoes and jacket, and walked to the bow of the ship.  Leaning on the rail, he took a spot among a few other restless travelers.  No one spoke.  Like the others, he strained to see something, anything in the vast darkness. The warm day had offered no hint of the evening chill, now made even more pronounced by the mist shooting up from below as the boat sliced almost noiselessly through the water.

      After about thirty minutes, the first glimpse of light appeared in the distance, an intermittent luminance obscured and then revealed by the rise and fall of the sea.   In another few minutes, however, the glow became more constant, reaching upward to form an umbrella over the horizon.  For a while, it seemed to come from one source, but then each blink of the eye revealed more and more individual units of light as a city slowly began to take shape in the middle of the dark coastline.  The silent journeyers leaned forward on the rail and gazed, transfixed, toward their chosen destination.

      So much had happened in the last few days.  Sam’s mind raced as fast as the boat, anticipating the journey to come and retracing the events that had led up to this moment. 
 

* * * * * 

      A few days earlier… 

      Sam shuddered with a mix of excitement and apprehension.  His twentieth birthday loomed, and he had decided to take the journey.  This was not an unexpected decision, although it should be noted that most did not take the journey.  Many young people Sam’s age talked about it, but very few ever actually embarked on it.  And in his town, it seemed like the majority of those who started the journey eventually wandered back to town, largely unchanged by the experience.

      Sam actually knew very little about the specifics of the journey.  He simply knew that he would be traveling to far away places, and experiencing new things.  He assumed that the journey would be filled with adventure, and, he hoped, discovery, not only about these new and exotic places, but perhaps more importantly, about himself.  Rumors of both grandeur and danger often swirled about whenever the topic was broached. Sam always knew when people were talking about the journey.  Gathered in hushed circles, they would suddenly stop their whisperings to turn and stare at Sam as he walked by.  The mystique of the journey didn’t bother Sam.  Instead, it became a major part of its appeal.

      One thing annoyed Sam, however.  Lately, a lot of the older folks in the town wanted to offer “advice,” which, of course, means that they mostly wanted to talk about themselves and defend whatever decision they had made about the journey in their own lives.  The ones who had never taken the journey, by far the vast majority, ridiculed those who had.  “Just look at them.  They’re no different than any of the rest of us,” they declared.  But those few who had long ago embarked on the journey told grand (usually exaggerated, Sam thought) stories.  Some said that they had reigned as princes among paupers in a distant land.  Sam often wondered why, if their journey had been so great, they ended up back here, shuffling through the motions like everyone else. Sam also noticed something in common from both sets of people.  No matter what their opinion or how passionately they spoke, Sam could see the shadows of longing and regret in their eyes.

      But one man in the town was different—Mr. Spencer.  He listened more than he talked, and he asked questions with genuine interest.  He rarely spoke about himself except in the most humble terms.  Yet Sam could see something unique.  At first he wasn’t quite sure what it was, but one day it came to him.  Mr. Spencer had a sparkle in his eyes that most of the others didn’t.  That was puzzling to Sam.  The townsfolk often talked in hushed tones about “poor Mr. Spencer.”  Sam didn’t know all the details, but this middle-aged man had apparently lost his family in some sort of accident a few years ago.  Sam wasn’t sure.  All he knew was that Mr. Spencer’s eyes somehow seemed more penetrating, and they glinted with depth and emotion that Sam rarely saw in anyone else.

      In spite of the way most people viewed Mr. Spencer, Sam noticed that he was the sort of person who always seemed to be helping someone else.  He was kind and generous, although he did not appear to be wealthy.  He was quick to offer congratulations when others succeeded and condolences when they were suffering.  Even at Sam’s relatively young age, he could tell there was a quality of integrity about Mr. Spencer without any of the petty comparisons and bickering that characterized so many of the others.

      It was on the day prior to leaving that Sam encountered Mr. Spencer by chance at an athletic supply store.  Despite the obvious age difference, Sam was drawn to this man.  They exchanged greetings, and Mr. Spencer’s eyes sparkled as he enthusiastically asked, “Are you ready for your journey?”

      “I think so.  I’ll be leaving tomorrow,” Sam answered.  Then, acting on impulse and phrasing the question before he thought it through, he asked, “Didn’t you go on the journey a long time ago?”

      Mr. Spencer’s smile widened, and Sam quickly continued.  “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that long ago.  I just meant, well, you know, when you went—if you went.”

      “I know you didn’t mean anything negative, Sam,” laughed Mr. Spencer. Then with eyes even more vibrant, he added, “Yes, I did go on the journey, but I was actually several older than you are now, so it wasn’t as long ago as you might suspect.”

      Sam’s curiosity immediately eclipsed any worries that he had offended the older man. “Really?  Not many older people go, do they?” he asked.

      “You’re right about that, Sam.  I think it is best to take the journey when you’re young and open to adventure.  It’s harder once you’ve settled into a comfortable pattern, and it can seem like life’s tentacles grow around you the longer you wait.  But anyone can go if they want,” Mr. Spencer said.

      “What was it like?” Sam asked.

      Without hesitation, Mr. Spencer answered, “It changed my life.”

      “I often wonder why so few go on the journey,” Sam offered, “and also why more of those who go don’t act like it changed their lives very much.”

      Mr. Spencer replied, “The journey is not always easy.  It can be hard and lonely, and some people, maybe most people, give up before they experience the joy of completing it.  It can also be very rewarding for those who endure, but don’t base your thoughts on what I say.  You’ll experience it for yourself, and I hope it will be as life changing for you as it was for me.”

      Sam glanced down at his watch as he responded, “I wish I had time to talk with you about it, but I still have several more things to do before I leave tomorrow.  If we’d only had this conversation earlier…”  His voice trailed off momentarily, but then he continued, “There’s so much mystery about the journey.  It would have been good to hear your story.”

      “I understand, Sam, but everyone’s journey is unique,” Mr. Spencer smiled, then added, “Have you given much thought to your goals—what you want to accomplish?”

      Sam nodded slowly and replied, “Well, there’s so much I don’t know.  I think I’ll start out just trying to understand who I am, and maybe if I figure that out then I can form some specific goals.”

      Mr. Spencer seemed genuinely pleased with this answer.  “That’s a great attitude.  I think you’ll be just fine.”  He paused, and then added, “Sam, I just want you to know… I’ll be praying for you.”

      Sam did one of those verbal stumbles, like tripping over your own feet, only he tripped on his tongue.  “Uh, that’s cool.  Thanks.”  He felt a little embarrassed, and he didn’t quite know how to respond.  Eventually Sam stuck out his right hand, and they shook and did the pat on the arm thing that guys often do with their free hand.  “Take care,” smiled Mr. Spencer, “and enjoy the journey.”

      “Yeah, see you around,” Sam said, and then turned away to continue his last minute shopping.

      Sam thought about the phrase Mr. Spencer had uttered as he left the store.  “He’ll be praying for me.  I guess that’s cool,” Sam said to himself.  Most people said something more generic, like “I’ll be thinking about you,” or even, “our thoughts and prayers are with you.”  Sam had even used that one a time or two, although he didn’t consider himself very religious, nor could he recall a time when he had actually prayed.  But the directness of the comment, coming from this man with the sparkling eyes, was almost unsettling.  Sam wondered why Mr. Spencer seemed to take a special interest in him.  He didn’t know, and eventually he put those thoughts into one of the deep crevices of his mind.

      Besides, tomorrow he would be leaving on the journey. 

Chapter 2—The Journey Begins 

      The journeyers barreled down the interstate toward the coast. Although the bus earlier was filled with the excited chatter of the young men and women, it was mostly quiet now.  They had been driving almost ten hours, and many had drifted asleep.  Sam remained awake, thinking about many things.

      Kale, the guy sitting next to Sam, came from a neighboring town.  While Sam was a bit apprehensive, Kale’s voice brimmed with confidence and swagger.  Early on the bus ride, he told Sam that both his parents had taken the journey “with great success,” as he described it. In Sam’s opinion, he spoke as if the journey was some sort of birthright.

      When Kale finally tired of talking, Sam’s thoughts returned to his own parents.  Neither of them had taken the journey.  They were rather indifferent to Sam’s decision to do so.  Actually, to put it bluntly, Sam’s father was opposed to it.  He told Sam that chasing such fanciful ideas was unrealistic and would lead to nowhere. Why did anyone need a “journey” when life could be lived the way most people did it?  Furthermore, Sam’s dad liked to say that the virtues of normal daily life and hard work trumped things like adventure and discovery, and there were ample opportunities for education and a career right at home.  Besides that, many people thought the journey was mostly a myth.

      Sam smiled as he recalled a pivotal scene from several weeks ago. One evening as his dad rambled on for the umpteenth time with his objections to the journey, his mother had finally spoken.  Despite her own fears for her son, borne from her maternal desire to protect him, she knew that they could not hold him back forever.  Sam must choose for himself, she had said.  And the decision was thus made.  Sam secretly wished that his father understood, and he held out hope that one day he would.  In the meantime, their tepid endorsement of the journey only added to his apprehension.

      As the long drive continued, Sam conversed with several others on the bus.  Some were on the journey because they thought it would look good on their résumés.  Others expressed a desire to make a difference, with several saying they wanted to end poverty.  The reasons were many.  Most, like Sam, were simply searching for something they couldn’t quite express.  Other than Kale, they all seemed to share the same level of ignorance about the specifics that awaited them.

      The combined sound of the engine, the wind and the occasional clap of the tires created a droning background that was somehow both cacophonic and resonant.  It was the perfect white noise for Sam’s deep thoughts, and there was much to think about.  Out of nowhere, Sam’s mind reached deep into a hidden crevice and retracted the words Mr. Spencer had spoken the day before.  “I just want you to know I’ll be praying for you.”

      “Why did I bring that thought back up?” Sam wondered.  He shook his head as if to clear it, like erasing an etch-a-sketch pad, and then eventually drifted to sleep. 
 

* * * * * 

      The sun perched on the horizon, huge and brilliant in its final moments before tucking in for the night.  Three girls sat facing it, their legs stretched in front of them and their hands on the ground behind as they took in the last few rays.  They often met on this hill at the edge of their small village.  Some days they talked about boys, but increasingly the conversation turned to their future plans.

      Jill’s heart pounded in her chest as she nervously broached the subject she had been waiting to bring up.

      “I’ve been thinking that maybe…I may go on the journey,” she offered.

      Any hopes of support were quickly dashed.  Kristin spoke first, “Jill, you don’t mean that, do you?  Nobody goes on the journey anymore!”

      Julie added, “Jill, don’t say that.  I want you to come to dance school with us.  That’s what we’ve all three dreamed of forever.”

      It was true.  The three girls had been inseparable for most of their young years and Jill didn’t want to displease them, but something inside her spirit wouldn’t let the idea of the journey go.  “I’m serious,” Jill persisted.  “I’ve always wondered what it would be like to challenge myself, and to do something different for a change.”

      Julie laughed, “Yeah, right.  I bet you come to your senses soon enough.  Besides, what will your parents say?”

      “I don’t know,” Jill admitted, “but I really am serious about this.”

      Kristin and Julie just laughed, “OK.  Whatever.” 
 

* * * * * 

      The subtle jerk of the bus’s wheels rolling to a complete stop woke him.  Sam had managed to sleep through the night, and now they were here, just as the sun was clearing the horizon.  Rolling his head to relieve the crick in his neck, Sam looked out the window toward the glare of the sun reflecting off the ocean in the distance.  He nervously grabbed his backpack, stretched, and shuffled toward the exit door.  Kale and a few of the guys were cracking jokes, but an unusual strain to their voices made Sam wonder if they were as anxious as he was.

      Once they had all filed out of the bus, they joined up with two other busloads to walk a short distance to a staging area for the journeyers.  There were several awkward minutes of standing around, with no one sure what to do next.  Finally, a gaunt man with a booming voice stood up on a wooden pallet that served as a makeshift stage and began to speak.

      “Young men and women, welcome to the destination point for your journey.  You are already among a select group, having made the decision to leave your homes and the comforts you have known to begin what promises to be a great adventure.  May you all find what you are looking for.”  He paused and scanned the crowd before continuing, “Now, I don’t want to overwhelm you, but today you will be faced with your very first choice.  There are two embarkation points here.  One leaves for the flat land.  The other departs for the steep land.  I cannot tell you which choice to make.  That is entirely up to you.”

      He stopped for a moment to let the previous words sink in, and then finally concluded, “I wish you great luck and success.”  And with that speech, he stepped down from the platform and quickly disappeared through the crowd.

      For a moment or two, Sam just stood there staring at the empty stage.  No one had told him about this decision.  Unsure what to do, he began to listen to the conversations around him.  For a brief instant, the crowd was split, but very soon an overwhelming favorite emerged.  The general consensus clearly favored the flat land.  From what Sam could glean, the steep land was reputed to be beautiful but extremely dangerous and difficult.  As the name implied, this place rose up dramatically from the sea.  The footing was treacherous from the very outset, and the best places were high up where the air was thin and the climb was difficult.  Because so few chose this place, it would most often be a lonely climb.

      The flat land, on the other hand, was said to be a very inviting place.  Almost everyone went there.  There were virtually no hills and certainly no mountains to contend with.  Best of all, there would be lots of company with so many other young people.  When faced with enormous decisions, most people tend to find comfort in consensus, and Sam found himself favoring the almost unanimous choice.

      So far, very few had actually moved in the direction of either embarkation point.  Suddenly a voice spoke up, and Sam recognized it as Kale’s.  “I don’t know about the rest of you crybabies, but I’m going to the steep land.  Piece of cake!  My parents did it and so can I.” And with that, he set off in the direction of the small boat awaiting the steep landers.  In addition to Kale, a couple of the others made their way in that direction.

      For some reason, Sam wanted to join them.  But unlike Kale, he was not confident at all.  He took a step, but his feet seemed like heavy steel plates.  In his heart, he knew he wanted to go for it. His pulse raced and his breathing became short and rapid. He again tried to move, but indecisive signals from his brain to his nerve endings confused both muscle and mind.

      As he stood there, motionless and conflicted, he thought, “This just isn’t fair!”  Twenty years of trying to please his parents, to make good grades, to do his best to avoid the pitfalls of youth...and now this—forced to make a critical decision of indeterminate consequences, based on incomplete information.  He wished he had more time, but he didn’t.

      He wondered what his parents would want.  Probably they would want him to go to the flat land.  Risk was not high on their priority list.  His dad might even want him to choose neither, but instead to simply abandon the journey altogether and return home.  At least home presented known choices with fairly predictable consequences.

      Sam once again found himself thinking about Mr. Spencer.  What would he do?  Sam was somehow sure that Mr. Spencer would choose the steep land.  His sparkling eyes hinted at a life of adventure, and Sam reasoned that their confident glint could be borne only by someone who had experienced defeat without yielding to it, someone who also knew the taste of victory.  In a split second of clarity, Sam realized that’s what he wanted, too.  He yearned to experience challenges, to find the place where life and achievement hang in the balance, to press past temporary setbacks and find permanent rewards.  He wanted to breathe the thin air of the high altitudes, and to look down on the beauty of the mountains and the ocean.

      Kale’s pace had taken him fifty or so steps from the group by now.  Turning to see who was coming with him, he spotted Sam on the edge of the crowd and shouted, “Sam, are you coming?”

      That was just the signal Sam needed.  “Yes, wait for me,” he yelled.

      Just as he took his first step, he felt a tap on his shoulder.  “Hey, you look like someone who’s about to make a big mistake,” said a smiling, athletic looking guy.  “My name’s Geo,” he said, stretching out his hand.

      Sam shook it and replied, “I’m Sam.  What do you mean about making a mistake?”

      Geo quickly responded, “Oh, it just looked like you might be joining the steep land group.”

      “Well,” Sam replied somewhat defensively, “maybe I was.  I mean, yeah, I’m going there right now.”  Looking over his shoulder to make sure Kale was still standing by, he added, “My friend is waiting for me.”  He took another step, but a hand reached out and grabbed his arm.

      “No, you don’t want to do that,” Geo said with a hint of urgency.  “Trust me.  I’ve heard all about the steep land, and it’s not all it’s cracked up to be.”

      Sam turned, his face indicating annoyance at this brash intrusion.  “Let me go, please,” he said firmly, twisting his arm away from Geo’s grip.  But before he continued walking, he asked, with a trace of indecision in his voice, “Why are you telling me this?”

      “I’m sorry I grabbed you” Geo quickly apologized.  “I just wanted you to know that most people who go to the steep land leave the first chance they get.  It’s lonely over there, and it gets really cold the higher up you go.  It’s way too hard, and for what? Life is meant to be enjoyed, am I right? Besides, the really cool people all go to the flat land. You look like a great guy, and, I don’t know, I just thought you might like to go with us,” Geo said.

      “Yeah, well, thanks, but I want a challenge.  I think I’m ready for it,” Sam replied, but his voice betrayed his lack of confidence.

      “Maybe so,” smiled Geo, “but what would it hurt to start off in the flat land, get your bearings, and then go to the steep land?”

      “Hmmm.  Can you do that?” Sam asked.

      “This is your journey, Sam, and you are in control of it.  You can do whatever you want, whenever you want,” Geo replied.

      Sam had to agree that Geo had a point, and he certainly seemed to know a lot more than Sam did.  He looked again at Kale, who impatiently spread his arms out, palms upward, and shouted, “What are you doing, Sam?  Let’s go!”

      Sam turned back toward Geo, who took a step backward and said to Sam in a calming voice, “I’m really sorry.  I’m interfering with your decision.  Go ahead and do whatever you want, but we’d love to have you join us.”

      Hidden scales in Sam’s brain weighed the words from the two opposing influences.  Their weight stood in equilibrium for several seconds, but then the scales began to tip, slightly at first but rapidly gaining momentum. Why should he let Kale, whom he hardly knew, make such an important decision for him?  Geo’s idea made more sense to Sam.  He reasoned that there would be nothing wrong with starting out with the majority at the flat land, at least for a few days.

      Sensing Sam’s decision, Geo put his arm around his shoulder, and before Sam realized fully what was happening, he found himself surrounded by a swelling group of people.  The surge of their movement was irresistible.  Even if he had wanted to break free and run toward the soon departing steep land boat, he could not have done so.  The momentum of the crowd swept him along, voluntarily or not, in its direction.

      Before long, he was on the huge ship.  As it slowly made its way out of the harbor, Sam spotted the now distant boat bound for the steep land.  It looked small and lonely, with only a few passengers.  Geo and the others had moved to a different spot on the deck leaving Sam alone with his thoughts.  Deep in his spirit, he wondered if he was making the right choice.  The more he thought about it, the more troubled he became.  So he did what he often did when he was nervous or troubled—he walked.  Moving counterclockwise around the ship’s perimeter, he walked from stern to bow and back again, over and over until he was too tired to walk anymore.  Then he went below deck to his small cabin but was unable to sleep.

      And now, in the middle of the night, in the middle of the ocean, Sam leaned against the rail and silently watched as destiny loomed brighter and closer each minute as the ship steadily steamed toward land. 

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