Fear of the Fathers (18 page)

“Well, what do you intend to do?” Oggi asked. “What's our next move?”

“I'm still thinking about it, but I think we're going to have to leave the country. God knows how though.”

“Where would we go?”

Stratton placed the parchment back in the box and put it under his bunk. “India,” he said. “Well, India or Burma. But I think India's slightly more feasible in the current political climate.”

“Why India or Burma though?” Oggi asked.

Stratton put some more wood on the fire and stoked it. “Because that's where the box comes from. That's where it belongs. It shouldn't have been taken away in the first place. It should still be hidden. My grandfather should have taken it back out there instead of burying it in England.”

“Okay, fair enough,” said Oggi. “But what's the point? Think about all the good things that could come of it. You could teach people how to use the symbols sensibly.”

“It's a nice idea Oggi, but it won't work at the moment. The symbols were left for a more harmonious time when man has stopped fighting and made peace with himself and others.”

“But there are good people in the world aren't there? All around the globe there are pacifists and monks and suchlike: vicars, priests, rabbis, and imams. Surely letting these people learn to harness the power will be good for the whole of mankind. Disease would become a thing of the past.”

Stratton gazed into the flames. “One day it will mate, but not today or anytime soon. The human race has to rid itself of hatred and violence in all forms before it can begin to use the full power of the universe. Any imperfection will twist the power and turn it malevolent.”

Oggi got up, filled the kettle, and hung it over the fire. “But surely the power can rid us of our imperfections,” he said. “Since my attunement, I've started to see things differently.”

“I know you have, but it's a struggle for you isn't it? You're in a constant battle with the energy. You said yourself that you didn't think you were ready to learn any more. I gave you access to too much power. The four Usui symbols are all that the human race can handle right now. They allow just enough energy to flow through the body. They heal mentally and physically at the right pace. Anything more would be overload – as you can testify.”

“Yeah, but that's just me isn't it. Who's to say that someone kinder and wiser would react in the same way? I'm sure a Buddhist monk would be capable of harnessing more energy.”

“I dare say he would,” Stratton agreed. “But it would depend on the monk. The order that guarded the box for two millennia probably used some of the other symbols, but I would guess only sparingly. Suri, the man who saved my grandad in the Burmese jungle, obviously knew how to harness the universe. But I imagine he also knew the dangers.”

The kettle boiled and Oggi made two cups of tea. He handed one to Stratton and said, “Isn't it a bit arrogant to withhold these secrets from mankind. It's a bit like these monks were saying ‘we can use it, but you can't'.”

“The monks had no choice. They were charged with looking after the secrets down the ages. It wasn't arrogance that stopped them releasing the symbols, it was compassion. Human beings in charge of divine powers equals total destruction. To have the power of the divine we first have to think like the divine. And that is unconditional love for all things.”

Oggi sipped his tea. “But there are people that think like that aren't there?”

“Maybe one in a billion,” Stratton replied. “Or maybe less, I don't know. There are people who claim to think that way, and there are people who want to think that way. It's the goal of every Buddhist monk to think that way – to empty themselves of hatred, violence, greed and the desire for material things. But it isn't easy, or everyone would be doing it. It takes years of solitary dedication to even come close. Siddhatta Gotama, or Buddha, called it
nibbana
, or nirvana if you like – the ‘release of the mind'.

“Look at it this way. However kind or magnanimous we like to think we are, there's always a bad seed buried somewhere in nearly all of us. It can range from an outright hatred and resentment for all living things, to the tiniest split second of thought. When someone does us a bad turn our natural reaction is defence or retaliation; whether we act upon it or not, it's still there. As long as there's one bad thought in the world then it's dangerous. Negativity multiplies much faster than positivity.”

Oggi pondered his friend's words. “So you're basically saying that the symbols won't be released until the entire human race has wiped out negative or destructive thinking.”

“I suppose I am. It's all about spiritual evolution. We need to be acting together as one race, a collective consciousness if you like.” He paused. “Have you ever seen those shoals of fish on wildlife programmes? The ones that move as a single entity?”

Oggi nodded. “Yes, I think I know what you mean. They do it to fend off predators don't they.”

“Yes, exactly. Well, it's like that. They swirl and turn in perfect harmony, making big and beautiful patterns. They know instinctively what the others are doing. It's the same with flocks of starlings, and colonies of ants. They all work as one. They don't think of themselves as separate beings. We might think ourselves the most intelligent creatures on earth and masters of the planet, but spiritually we're in the dark ages. These animals don't have religions; they're not obsessed with individual gain; they're not constantly involved in petty arguments. They know that the most effective way to survive is as a collective. It's all about giving up the ‘self', and flowing – just like Buddha did.”

“Do you think that will ever happen?” Oggi asked.

“I don't know, but if it doesn't the human race will destroy itself. I think we can do it, as long as enlightened people stem the tide of greed and hatred. And that doesn't mean fighting the purveyors of these things; it doesn't mean killing people we perceive as bad – it means standing firm and not reacting to them. It means showing by example that violence can never be justified. As Gandhi said – ‘an eye for an eye leaves the whole world blind'.”

Oggi finished his mug of tea, poured another, and lit a cigarette. “I understand what you're saying, and theoretically it's all well and good. But what are you meant to do when there are so many injustices being done in the world. What about all the iniquitous regimes like Mugabe, Saddam Hussein, and the Taliban? Do we just stay idle whilst these bullies oppress their people?”

“No, but who are we to judge? Our governments in the so called ‘free world' are just as oppressive, it's just more insidious and a lot harder to spot. Any person who presumes to wield power over another is an oppressor, whether it be Genghis Khan, Hitler or your boss at work. And these people wish to wield power because deep down inside they are afraid. There's no such thing as good or bad Oggi, there's only serene intelligence and fearful ignorance. And we as a race are still fearfully ignorant. We have to rise above our petty squabbles over land and wealth. In the great school of the cosmos we've only just started kindergarten. There's so many levels to explore, and the only way to reach them is to open your soul to love and infinite possibility.”

Oggi again pondered Stratton's words. “But how do we get there?” he said.

“I've got no idea. It's different for each individual. All I can say is that the pointers are there. Jesus, Buddha and Muhammad have all preached non-violence, as have many others. But humans still insist that theirs is the best religion, and theirs is the greatest God etc. It's all bullshit Oggi – these people never wanted it to turn out like this, they didn't want people starting off religions in their name. All they wanted was worldwide unity and understanding. The problem with humans is that they can so easily twist words to suit their own purpose. There is only one fundamental principle that holds true, and that is, in the immortal words of
Bill and Ted
: ‘be excellent to each other'.”

Oggi laughed. “So
Bill and Ted
held the secret to the universe and the meaning of life then?”

“I guess so. But we all hold it, we just have to find it within ourselves. Behind the dusty boxes of hate and the cobwebs of greed.” He paused and grinned. “Anyway I hope that explains why we have to take the box back. Unless of course you think the world is ready to harness the power?”

“No, I think you might be right. But it doesn't bring us any physically closer to India.”

“No it doesn't,” Stratton agreed. “But I'm sure an opportunity will present itself soon.”

“Really,” said Oggi with raised eyebrows. “And how do you figure that?”

Stratton said, “Because we need it,” then lay back on his bunk and closed his eyes in meditation.

Inside the church hall it was pandemonium. Balloons and streamers filled the air, along with the lingering smell of egg and cress sandwiches; empty plates, long despoiled of their food, lay on crumb-ridden tables; and children ran amok with dripping noses, pulling hair and playing ‘it'.

Stella turned to Pat Cronin and smiled. “Well, you've certainly done your bit this afternoon,” she said. “But I'm not too sure if any of this is going to help their spiritual development.”

Cronin smiled back. “Of course it will. We don't want them thinking that Jesus is an old curmudgeon, do we? I want them to see church as a place of happiness. Afternoons like this will help us bring in a new generation of worshippers. The severe reputation of the Catholic Church is driving people away. You can't expect them to turn up when it's all doom and gloom, listening to liturgy and answering versicles. I want to break down preconceptions and bring the world back to God.”

“Is this a directive from Rome, or is it just your own idea?”

Cronin looked awkward. “Well, it's not exactly a directive. But my job is to spread the word and—”

“Convert as many people as possible,” Stella interjected.

“Well, yes. I suppose so,” admitted Cronin. “But I don't see it as a conversion, I see it as a coming home.”

Stella watched the children's carefree frolicking and wondered if they weren't just lambs for the slaughter. In a few years time, with the help of some subtle indoctrination, they would probably be committed to the cause. And from there would stem a lifelong devotion; the same blind devotion that caused the streets of Belfast to become a battleground; the same blind devotion that caused the undisguised animosity between the football clubs Glasgow Celtic and Glasgow Rangers. Catholic against Protestant – two religions with the same God. Two religions killing in the name of a benign deity. She looked across to Cronin and wondered why such a kind and intelligent man couldn't see that he was helping to create an aggressively partisan world.

“Thanks for helping out this afternoon,” said Cronin, breaking her from her thoughts.

“No problem,” she replied. “I might as well be doing something useful with my time now that I'm out of work.”

“You seem to have a good way with the children. You'll make a great mother one day.”

“I doubt it,” she said. “One afternoon's about as much as I could take. I'm not sure if I could deal with it 24/7. And then there's the lack of freedom as well. I think I'd go mad having to take a baby everywhere with me.”

Cronin smiled. “I'm sure all that would change once the mothering instinct kicked in. You'd be a natural.”

“Well, maybe one day. I've got a life to live first.”

“Yes you have,” said Cronin, skilfully dodging a small child who came tearing past. “And I'm glad to hear you say it. You seem very positive today. You appear to be looking forward again.”

“I am. The last couple of days have been great. I feel like I'm really starting to move on. We haven't even had the memorial yet, but something inside me has changed already. It's like a light's been switched on. I know it sounds corny but I feel like it's okay to be happy again.”

“Good. I'm glad,” said Cronin. He touched her shoulder lightly and smiled.

The party started to wind down as one by one parents turned up to collect their children. By six o'clock the hall was empty and Stella and Cronin started the laborious job of clearing up.

“You don't have to help you know,” said Cronin. “I'll be fine on my own. I'm sure you must be worn out by now with all the shouting and screaming.”

“Well, maybe a little bit. But I've got nothing else to do, and I'd feel guilty leaving you with all this – it looks like Armageddon.”

“I'm sure Armageddon will be a picnic after this.” He laughed, then crossed himself and looked to the skies to absolve the remark.

Stella cleared the crockery whilst Cronin made a start on the decorations. The afternoon had taken her back twenty-odd years to her pre-teens. She remembered the magic and excitement well: putting on her best party dress; wrapping presents; scoffing sandwiches, ice cream and jelly; playing pass the parcel and pinning the tail on the donkey; and then going home with a party bag and a slice of cake in a serviette. It heartened her that not much had changed over the years. The only major difference being they were now playing ‘musical chairs' to the sound of Britney Spears rather than Bros. A warmth suffused her.