© 1991 Wayne Ferrier
© 1991 The Fellowship for readers of The Urantia Book
| Facts from Urantia Files | December 1991 — Vol. 1 No. 2 — Index | What Am I? Who Am I? An Introspection Of Myself |
By Wayne Ferrier, Williamsport, Pennsylvania
Illustrated by Marianne Green, Medina, Ohio
It was nearing the time of day when the sun was in the center of the sky and Amadon found himself meandering towards a favorite spot across the swamp, a few hours walking distance from the city of Dalamatia. He was feeling good for once. Things had not been going well lately in the city. Members of the Prince’s staff, including Van, were hard to find since the start of the rebellion. Disputes were becoming more common among the people that lived near the city, and Amadon had the feeling that he would have to be leaving the area like so many had done already. This morning he woke up early while the stars were still out and turned these things over in his mind. They had even invaded his dreams! But once he was on that familiar path that cut through the reedy swamp and meandered toward the channel, he started feeling much better.
Soon he could make out the turbid water that moved along at a walking pace, sometimes carrying debris, driftwood, and vegetation along in its current. A hungry fish jumped at a lowdarting horsefly, temporarily disturbing the chocolate colored water causing circular ripples that radiated out towards the banks, only to disappear in the flow.
Nearby, turtles were sunning themselves on the upper portion of a weather-bleached log, half sunken in the slimy mud. Part of the log’s surface was gray and parched, its sunken half was sodden and covered with red, green, and brown algae. When Amadon approached too near, the turtles belly-flopped into the water making plopping sounds as they went under and disappeared into the murk.
“This is so peaceful,” Amadon said to himself as he looked around. “So peaceful, yet so invaded!” It was Avela. She had found his spot and had beaten him here so she could harass him some more. She was sitting on the bank not far from where the turtles were.
“If you be quiet and sit still long enough they will crawl back up on the log,” Avela said. Then she turned towards him acting like she just realized who she was talking to and cackled, "Ah, Amadon, the one who believes in the myths and stories of the unseen Father!’ Avela always started out her conversations that way and it was really beginning to annoy Amadon.
“Who do you think you are and what do you want, Avela?” Amadon replied.
“Can you not think of a better quip than that?” she retorted. “I hear you say that every day.”
“And every day I have to put up with you! What are you doing this far from your camp? Don’t you know these are danger ous times? There are three things that I will never understan God’s purpose for, and they are: flies, snakes, and you follow ing me around everyday!”
Amadon realized that his brazenness was useless in a con test of words with Avela. She possessed a quick mind and a shar tongue. Amadon was learning that his nature was not accustomed to flippancy. She rejoined him:
“The flies are here to annoy the believers. The snakes are here to frighten the believers in their every move. And, I am here this morning to swear to you that if you would only give up this foolishness, Amadon, this burden of yours, you would realize, like I have, how free you would feel. I have talked with Bon and he has agreed to let you come over and live in our camp if you would only give up your childish hopes and wishes. Van cannot give you the guidance that Bon can. He is too busy quand reling with Caligastia, the Prince. I cannot see why anyone would want to do that! There is something wrong with Van — even Bon has said so.”
Amadon reaped the harvest of his futile effort at being come and resigned from the contest. “I don’t know what to make of you or the things that you have to say, Avela. I suppose I’ll see you tomorrow. I have to go now.”
He left hurriedly. The tall disarray of ocher and iridescende grasses yielded an unsavory passage through the marshy area. Amadon was upset with Avela but he was also befogged. What was she implying? He became so involved in his uncertainty that he failed to find his way back to the path that led to the city and he stumbled into a mire of mosquitos, prickly vegetation and muck.
The next day, Amadon was still scratching his mosquito bites. “Annoying little insects! They are worse than flies!” Amadon cursed under his breath. But there was good news when he go home that night after his encounter with Avela. There was a message waiting for him from Van. It had been arranged for Amadon to meet with one of Van’s friends who would teach him the skills necessary to ride his passenger bird. He was to meet this person up on the slope where the goats roamed.
Amadon headed up the ridge that separated the patches of swamp and marsh that existed between the two great rivers. The dirt track was full of grasshoppers, their body colors simulated the color of the rocks and sand of the area. Most would fly up a few feet away and land again only to repeat the action as Amadon approached near them. Others lived among the grasses where they tried to conceal themselves by cleaving to the stems and remaining still or by quickly sliding around behind the stems.
As he was climbing up the age-old trail to the highest slope he would occasionally turn around and look down over the basin, out over the land where numerous camps lodged between the rivers. To the left and far down he could see the camp of Bon where Avela lived. The bustle of activity could be heard from where Amadon stood. The sound of the life of the camp prevailed over every other sound at that height. He could make out the sounds of domesticated animals that Bon’s group cared for. There were the sounds of children playing and women and men working. But the dominant sound of all was the sovereign cry of holy men in prayer and worship to the various gods of the tribes.
Amadon thought about his talk with Avela the day before and he realized that his position was in the minority. A lot of the people of the Dalamation city opposed his belief in the Father of all. Amadon felt ostracized.
When he got to the top of the ridge he spotted his fandor among several pecking the dusty ground near the bluff. Someone was tossing barley groats to the great birds and they were eating away. He recognized the person who was feeding them as one of the red people who frequented the roost area of Dalamatia.
Amadon became embarrassed when he realized that this new mentor he was about to meet was an elderly man whom Amadon had boasted to many times. While talking to this man in the past, Amadon had made himself out to be an expert on the passenger birds but now found himself humbled by the recognition that the real master had remained silent and allowed him his illusions.
“Ah! Amadon, you finally made it up here,” the old man called, “The passenger bird is ready for you.”
“Do you mean that she is ready to carry me through the air?” asked Amadon.
“Almost,” the old man replied. “Actually she is only strong enough to carry you as she glides down to the bottomland below the ridge, and that we will do today.”
“And am I going to do that by myself?” Amadon asked uneasily.
“No, I have an older and more experienced bird here and I will go with you. Not only can I talk with you as we go down but the presence of the older bird will calm the little fandor enough so that she will not panic.”
“So she won’t panic!” joked Amadon. “What about me?”
“Ah, a warrior like yourself would never panic,” the old man stated and he smiled. “Do as I do,” he called and he suddenly mounted a large passenger bird. The great bird’s wings flapped wildly as the bird ran around the area near the cliff with the old man on its back. Feathers were flying and the commotion was kicking up a lot of dust. Audaciousness may not have been one of Amadon’s strong points but courage was. In an instant, he was on the little fandor’s back. His bird may have been smaller but was in no sense weaker. She flapped more wildly thane the red man’s bird and started running quickly around in circles. After a few moments, Amadon became dizzy and fell to the ground.
His coach did not even grin. “Get back on that bird until she realizes that you are not going to give up,” the old man called, and Amadon obeyed.
After about half an hour of this Amadon was bruised and sore but he was able to stay on the bird without falling. “Now we are ready to go!” uttered his teacher, and he and his fandor were over the edge.
Not wanting to be left behind by its own kind, the little fandor followed, carrying Amadon with her. Before Amadon came to realize his predicament he found himself riding the fandor who was bolting down the slope and was off the edge and in the air.
Amadon had both arms around the bird’s wirey neck but he found himself slipping. “Amadon, hold her with one arm only and hold the other one in the air to keep your balance,” the old man called. Amadon did as he was told and found that this technique really worked. Soon he had enough confidence to look down and realized that he was higher up than he had thought.
Amadon was not accustomed to such stimulation, but there was nothing about it that was disagreeable. “Whoa!” he called out into the air, “I’m riding among the clouds!” His instructor circled closer to him now while Amadon and his fandor kept gliding at a steady descent towards the flatland below. The old man called.
“Ah, Amadon, who is that down there on the ground looking up at us?” Down, far below him Amadon could make out the figure of a woman looking skyward. It was Avela. The old man called, “Perhaps the unseen Father is hard at work within her and that is why she is drawn to you.” Amadon looked over at the old man as they glided toward the ground.
“Who is this new mentor who knows so much about my personal life?” Amadon thought to himself. “That woman is a thorn in my side!” he barked. “And she has no love for the unseen Father!”
The old man called back, “Avela can have that effect on people she cares for. As for the matter of the unseen Father, all the people in Bon’s group are convinced that He does not exist, so who is she going to discuss the matter with in order to make the right decision?”
The birds landed. Amadon got off the fandor and felt both his feet on the ground again. “That was quite an experience!” he called to the red man. Avela was running toward them. Amadon puffed out his chest, his daring ride through the air would surely have impressed her, he thought. She was calling to him as she came nearer.
"Amadon, How foolish you are! You tarry about in the swamps, believe in unseen things, and now I find you hanging about with my father in the air on these ridiculous birds. Amadon’s mouth dropped open.
“My people were at war with Avela’s people when she was a child,” the old man explained sheepishly. “Both of her parents were killed. It was only right that I should raise her since she was too little to have survived on her own.”
“Then you are of Bon’s group!” sputtered Amadon. “When would Van send me into the hands of Bon?”
"Avela has ties to Bon, but I have ties to neither Bon nor Van nor any other group. Van asked me to teach you of the wa of the passenger birds and that is what I am doing. Avela h been working with Bon for many years and now is old enough to make her own decisions.”
“Then do you believe in the unseen Father?” Amadon asked the old man.
“I don’t know what to believe, Amadon.” The old man saic "But you have seen like I do, like these birds do. You have see what it is like to fly. What does creation look like from another view?”
“I don’t know,” stammered Amadon. “It was extraordinary”.
The old man stated, “I find many things about creation extraordinary and have not found sufficient means to explain them”.
“You are both crazy!” Avela charged. “If you keep hangin around with my father and drink this water of astonishment to many times like he did you will never return from it!” After hav ing said this she walked off. Amadon looked at the old man
“Old man, your eyes are laughing but your face shows me emotion. What am I to believe?”
“Believe what you will and be here tomorrow for another le son.” At this, the old man started walking in the direction Ave had gone. The rest of the small flock had flown down from th ridge and followed him except for the little passenger bird Amadon’s fandor was eating what was left of the barley groat Indeed, Amadon was beginning to see things from a more elevat ed view. But, it was raising more questions than it had answered.”
… to be continued.
EDITOR’S NOTE TO ALL KIDS We are very excited abour HERALD. We are of THE STUDY GROUP who can send in the best starting a contest to see whork and other stuff. kid’s or kids’ stories, artwo with a promise to print We’re starting in this issue and his fandor that any kids’ pictures of Amandon and his fandor that we get. (A kid is any son of God!)
| Facts from Urantia Files | December 1991 — Vol. 1 No. 2 — Index | What Am I? Who Am I? An Introspection Of Myself |