This is a powerful novel in which the narrator, under the illusion of restoring an antique desk, meets and is taught by a seer, Nestor. He gradually realizes that his growth is tied to the piece of furniture, which “is like a mirror: it reflects the energy of your ideas and concepts directly back to you” (27).
Initially one might be annoyed at the storyteller who seems so arrogant and reluctant to accept anything told to him by Nestor. While he fights every new experience and tries to explain each new happening, he continues to visit Nestor. Frustration with this slow-learning narrator, however, turns to understanding as we begin to see him as the embodiment of all of us who spend too much time denying the existence of, or our connection, to another world. We strive hard to justify this physical reality. Perhaps we see ourselves, those who refuse to let go of the secure world. We so want to be rational, as the narrator, and argue about accepting the “other world” and that larger picture of consciousness.
Reminiscent of Carlos Castenada’s The Teachings of Don Juan, Summer Rain’s No Eyes (check title) and Lynn Andrews’ Medicine Woman, this book is based on a true story. We do not, however, have the hindrance of wondering whether or not it really happened. Many of the other books, especially Carlos Castenada’s which claimed to be a true story of teachings by a Mesoamerican shaman, left the reader feeling let-down with the dispute about its veracity. There is no such problem here with the story presented as a novel. We are free to believe as much as we choose.
The story reminds me of Oscar Wilde’s The Picture of Dorian Gray in which a young man’s portrait progressively gets uglier and uglier as his evil ways in the world increase. Dorian Gray’s beauty, however, does not diminish as his picture, hidden in his attic, shows the immorality of his actions. In Tausin’s story, the antique becomes more and more beautiful during the slow restoration process, as the narrator comes closer and closer to understanding the other consciousness represented by his eye floaters. The antique becomes more beautiful as he becomes more clear. The only evil in this story is denial.
“Crossing the bridge is not a question of character, let alone fate. It is a decision. It is a decision that every person walking the path in the basic structure has to make. It is the point when a human being has to decide whether he or she wants to remain a human being that wants to continue to experience the small joys and woes of this world. Or if he or she wants to fly over into the left side so as to outgrow themselves in an ecstatic way, and to see the world with the eyes of a seer from then on” (304).
I do believe that each of us has a decision to make. Whether we call our belief spiritual, other-worldly, or metaphysical, we know something more exists. We are all on the same path as the narrator, struggling to “bridge” the two worlds.
The author refers the “shining structure of consciousness,” or the altered states of consciousness, the idea that there is a connection between eye floaters and another reality. Even if one has never experienced eye floaters, the book provides the challenge of balancing the physical world with another perception.
We tend to see earth as a small picture and we are often content with this limited view, afraid of losing what we know. The struggle is not easy. Years pass in the novel as the narrator learns. This is an allegory to our lives, reminding us that connecting with another possibility is not a one-step, easy ride. It forces a personal commitment from the reader. I recommend the journey. But be sure to keep an open mind and allow yourself to see beyond this image we call our world.
-- Cheryl A. Chatfield, The Nottingham Institute (http://nottinstitute.org )
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