Harold stood dumbstruck. “Are you really here?” He peered into the car and looked at three men dressed in white robes. There was a long-haired white man in the driver’s seat, a black man with dreadlocks in the passenger seat, and an Asian man with long hair pulled into a pony tail in the back seat. The long-haired white man looked just like the Jesus in the picture hanging in Harold’s bedroom. A spitting image. There was a fog of smoke rolling about in the car.
The long-haired white guy rolled down the window and asked, “What did you say? I couldn’t hear you with the windows rolled up and Bob Marley on the MP3.”
Harold shook his head. “Wow, well, I’m Harold. For a second there I thought …”
The long-haired white guy interjected, “You thought I was Jesus, right?” The white guy turned to the black guy and they both started laughing.
Harold laughed a little. He felt like a fool. “Yeah, I guess I did. It’s just, well, you’re the first people I’ve seen since my house burned down yesterday.”
The white guy said, “Dude, your house burned down? That sucks, man. Hey, why don’t you get in back. We’re heading out to the desert. We’ve got a camp set up there.”
Harold said, “Well, okay, but I’ve got some stuff inside the store. You mind if I go grab it?”
“Dude, you’re not going to need it. We got you covered.. The camp’s loaded with goodies. Cool people there, too. You’ll dig ‘em.”
Harold internally debated for a few moments, “I don’t know these guys. They seem okay and they’re the only people I’ve seen since the fire—I sure as hell don’t want to stay here in this wasteland. Plus, they might know why all the people are missing. But, damn, that sure smelled like pot when the driver rolled down the window.” Harold decided to ask them about the disappearance of all the people.
The white guy frowned. “Yeah, that’s a quandary. We’ve been talking about it ourselves. We have a theory, but we don’t know for sure. Come on, get in and we can talk about it.”
Against his better judgment, Harold got into the back seat of the Mustang. Once inside he extended his hand to the Asian fellow. The Asian hippy, as Harold thought of him, smiled widely and gripped his hand. “So, this is a ‘handshake’?”
Harold looked at him a bit puzzled and said, “Yeah. Why, you’ve never shaken anyone’s hand?”
The Asian guy laughed. “No, I’ve ‘shaken hands,’ but I’ve never engaged in a handshake.” Before Harold could speak, the Asian guy said, “Hey, forget about it, man. Here, have a toke.” Harold was handed a large multi-colored glass pipe. He hadn’t smoked pot since he was in high school and had never seen a blown glass pipe. The Asian guy showed him where the carb was and how to use it. The black guy looked into the backseat and winked at the Asian guy, who giggled a little bit and nodded his head up and down as he said, “I know, right?” The man with the dreads nodded his head too and started chuckling as he turned around.
Harold lit the bud in the bowl and inhaled. He let out the carb and a thundercloud of smoke filled his lungs. He held it for a few seconds and then exhaled. The smoke was incredibly smooth. He sat quietly a couple of minutes. He noticed he wasn’t feeling high at all. He turned to the Asian guy and asked, “Um, shouldn’t I be feeling the effects by now?”
“The effects of what?”
“Of the smoke?”
“Huh? Oh, no, it’s not that type of smoke, man.”
Harold thought that was weird. He was about to ask what he had just smoked, but he noticed that there were no other cars on the road. “Hey, do you guys know what happened, why there are no cars or people anywhere?”
The three guys swiveled their respective heads with quizzical looks on their faces. The long-haired white guy turned back to the road and said, “Well, yeah, we do. It’s a long story, though. Do you want to hear it?”
Harold said, “Yes, it’s been disturbing me ever since my house burned down. My daughter died in the fire and I wasn’t able to call the fire department and there were no neighbors anywhere. There was no one in Wal-Mart, either. You three are the only people I’ve seen except for two dead guys in a convenience store.” There was a palpable silence for half a minute before Harold said, “So, do you know what happened?”
The white guy said, “Well, yeah, that’s all part of the long story. Do you want to hear it?”
Harold wondered if the guy was stoned. He’d just said yes. He shook his head and answered, “Yes.”
“Okay, cool. Well—hey, turn down the music for a sec … there, cool. Um, okay I’ll start with the part that will freak you out, the part that made you freak out when you saw us in the car.”
Harold said, “Okay.”
The Asian guy whispered to Harold, “This is going to blow your mind, man.”
Harold looked at the Asian guy. He was getting ready to light the pipe again. He had a big smile on his face.
The white guy continued, “First of all, my name is Jesus. My black friend here is named … Jesus. Our Asian buddy is named … Jesus. We’re the Sons of God.”
Harold felt like he should be disturbed, but he wasn’t. He felt different and he wondered if it was from the smoke. He wasn’t high, though. Just different.
The white guy continued. “Under normal circumstances, you’d probably think I was crazy for saying that which is why we created unusual circumstances so you’d find it a bit easier to swallow. Any questions so far?”
Harold was too confused to form any questions.
White Jesus looked at Black Jesus and each of them shrugged. Black Jesus started talking, “See, what Jesus is saying is that your consciousness was not in the sort of place that could adequately perceive us as we are. You’ve got a lot of silly notions about Jesus, as if Jesus is 'one' guy. No, there are a lot of Jesus’s.”
Harold thought to himself, “Well, yeah, I work with a guy named Jesus, but we pronounce his name ‘hay-zoos.’ He’s a Mexican immigrant, not the son of God.”
Asian Jesus turned to Harold and said, “See, even under these circumstances you’re doubting. You’re ‘Doubting Harold.’ You have a picture of White Jesus on your bedroom wall and you think that’s the only Jesus because of that. Well, that and the New Testament stories. See, there are a lot of us. Most people pray to White Jesus and, frankly, White Jesus has been laughing his ass off. I, on the other hand, am a little pissed off. Even Black Jesus gets a little attention, but me? Bubkis. No one prays to Asian Jesus.”
White Jesus and Black Jesus started laughing. Asian Jesus started laughing, too. White Jesus said, “Don’t listen to him, man, he’s just fucking with you. He’s not getting pissed; he loves you, Dude. We all love you. That’s what we do, man. We love.”
They drove in silence for about 15 minutes. White Jesus seemed to know where he was going as this was the same way Harold would have driven to leave the city. Harold noticed they were now on the edge of the metro area, almost past the last suburb. White Jesus turned onto an onramp. They were going to be heading west on the Interstate, straight out into the desert.
Harold spoke up. “So, you still haven’t told me what happened to all the people.”
White Jesus said, “Oh, yeah! Sorry, man. I spaced out there for a bit. It’s fun driving, you know?”
Harold responded, “Yeah, I suppose with no other cars on the road it’s pretty cool.”
“No, it’s not that. This is the first time I’ve ever driven a car. Which brings me back to the story.” Jesus grabbed a can of Coca-Cola from the cupholder and took a swig. “How do you drink this shit? It’s fucking pure sugar! Ugh.”
Harold didn’t drink soda, but he decided not to mention it. He asked White Jesus, “Aren’t you omniscient and omnipotent?”
White Jesus put the can back in the cupholder and set the cruise control. “No, Harold, I’m not. Black Jesus is, though.” There was a brief silence and then the three Jesus’s started laughing hysterically. White Jesus said, “No, no, no, I’m just fucking with you. No, the truth is that none of us are omniscient or omnipotent.”
“I thought you were God.”
Black Jesus said, “We’re sons of God.”
Harold responded, “What about the Trinity? You know, Father, Son, and Holy Spirit are all one.”
Asian Jesus hung his head and said, “That’s one of the things we’re here to resolve. A huge misunderstanding. Huge.”
Harold said, “So you don’t know what I’m thinking?”
Black Jesus turned to Harold and said, “We’re not fucking Santa Claus, we don’t know if you’ve been naughty or nice. That shit’s up to you. You’re a grown man. Be responsible for your own shit, huh? What, you’re going to be good if God’s watching, but you’d be a dick if there was no God?” Black Jesus raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders. “It’s all on you, man. It’s up to each person to be what they’re going to be. You don’t get a treat for being good and a hot poker in the ass if you’re not. The rewards for being honorable are evident if you’re honorable; the punishments for being deceitful are experienced in this life whether you realize it or not. Your consciousness either expands or contracts, either remains balanced or becomes imbalanced. Your capacity to feel love grows or shrinks accordingly. Your potential for fulfillment is conditional as well. No more hocus-pocus, okay?”
Harold nodded his head. There was a lot to digest, a lot to consider and reconsider. He noticed that Jesus was slowing down. There was no exit ramp, though. Jesus pulled off on the shoulder of the road and stopped.
“We’ll walk from here.”
Harold shook his head and said, “What? Why aren’t we driving to your camp?”
Black Jesus said, “There are no roads to our camp. We have to walk. Forty days and forty nights.”
Harold gulped.
Black Jesus laughed, “No man, I’m just playing with you. It’s about an hour’s walk and then Arab Jesus will pick us up.”
Harold asked, “How many Jesus’s are there?”
Asian Jesus said, “Whoa, let’s not get ahead of ourselves. White Jesus, you were telling the story, man. Keep going.” White Jesus grabbed a backpack and handed Harold a canteen. Harold drank from it and handed it back.
“Wow, that’s the purest water I’ve ever tasted.”
White Jesus said, “Straight from a mountain spring, brother. Straight from a spring. None of that plastic bottle shit you’ve been calling water.” Jesus took the canteen from Harold and drank from it. “Ah, that’s good. You’ll live a long time if you drink water like this. You won’t get cancer, heart disease, or diabetes. You’d be surprised at how many toxins are in your water. Your water is really acidic as well. Water should be more heavily alkaline, but that’s a discussion for another day. You have much to learn, grasshopper.” White Jesus patted Harold on the back, “Much to learn.”
Once they all had their gear, Harold and the three Jesus’s walked into the desert. White Jesus spoke, “Back to the story. You were asking where all the people are. That’s a bit complicated and you may have trouble believing what I’m about to tell you. I don’t expect you to simply accept what I have on faith nor would I encourage you to do so. I know that might come as a bit of a surprise because you’ve been told having faith is important. It’s not.”
Harold considered what White Jesus was saying. “Up is down,” thought Harold.
White Jesus continued. “We knew about your house burning down before you told us. We may not be omniscient, but we’re able to know more than you could possibly imagine. Omniscience is not a possibility because knowledge is a concoction in the first place. ‘To know’ does not mean quite as much as you think it does. Understanding, on the other hand, is much more important. If there was a word for ‘understanding everything’ then you could apply it to each of us. We don’t know everything, but we understand everything.”
Harold wondered how it was possible to understand something that wasn’t known. He was about to ask, but White Jesus continued.
“Knowledge is a human creation. Don’t get me wrong, I’m human … but that’s just an aspect or, really, a manifestation of my being. Understanding transcends humanity, but not being. Understanding corresponds exactly to being. Everything is understood because everything is. If everything wasn’t then understanding wouldn’t be. See what I’m saying?”
“No.” Harold was more confused than ever and wondered what this had to do with people disappearing.
“Okay. We knew your house burned down, we knew your daughter died, we knew you could find no one to help you, we knew you wandered the streets knocking on doors without any answer, we knew you were flummoxed by the absence of cars and people, and we knew you spent the night in Wal-Mart.”
Black Jesus interjected, “You looked damn good in that pink lingerie, too.” The three Jesus’s laughed.
Harold felt his face turning red. He was deeply embarrassed.
Asian Jesus said, “Hey, no worries, Harold. We chose to appear to you precisely because of those moments. You were playing and having fun. You took a break from worrying about the rest of the world and lived. It was awesome!” The other Jesus’s nodded their heads and smiled.
White Jesus continued, “We know all those things as humans. We understand those things as beings. I don’t want you to get hung up on that, though. I know your biggest concern is for your daughter. Yes, she died, but she was fulfilling a purpose she had created for herself. She lit the house on fire, blowing herself up in the process, so that you could free your mind. She’s dead, yes, but only as a human. She lives on as a being just as all beings live on and on eternally, manifesting in differing forms throughout existence, an existence that will never end. I understand that is what is. I don’t know it, but I understand it.”
Harold shook his head, tried to clear his thoughts as they continued walking by sage brush, cactus, and the occasional mesquite tree. “So … where is my daughter now?”
Asian Jesus spoke up. “She isn’t a ‘she’ any more. The being who took the form of your daughter exists, but your daughter does not. Your daughter is … how should I put this? Black Jesus?”
“The being who was your daughter, who was a woman, now is as a being that cannot be defined or categorized by language. Even the word ‘being’ is a misrepresentation, but it’s got the least baggage attached to it. Being implies ‘is’ and while what your daughter was ‘is not,’ the being that manifested itself as your daughter ‘is.’”
White Jesus jumped into the fray and said, “I know you’re going to ask ‘where is the being that manifested as my daughter?’ The best I can do is to say that ‘being is.’ It’s not a terribly satisfying answer for a human, but the good news is that you won’t always be human. A being can choose to manifest in pretty much any possible way, but that manifestation will be in a way that can’t understand being because while the manifestation is it is not being as being is. Damn, it’s hard to use language to explain what is.”
Black Jesus countered, “It’s impossible. Harold’s just getting more and more confused.”
Asian Jesus took a stab. “Okay, in human terms, your daughter died so that you could realize what you are. She didn’t make a sacrifice; that would imply she lost something. No, she gained by doing what she did. Never mind how; suffice it to say she took a step toward being a being. I’m saying this in a human way and words such as ‘toward’ imply a spatiotemporal context that has nothing to do with being.”
Harold’s head was swimming. Asian Jesus pulled out the pipe and a lighter. He took a puff and handed it to Harold.
Harold took it, but before he lit it he asked, “If this isn’t pot, what is it?”
Asian Jesus threw his head back. “Aaaaaaugh! Man, that’s even harder to explain. Let’s just say that the smoke has properties that enhance your ability to understand. It sort of cuts through being human and opens up the mind to the possibility of being.”
Harold asked, “Is the mind part of eternal being?”
Black Jesus answered, “No. Asian Jesus is being really loose with his language, trying to ‘talk human,’ so to speak. Mind is a just a way of saying consciousness or awareness, but it’s more than that, too. It’s not something that’s ‘real’ for humans. It’s not ‘real’ for beings either, but it is used for various purposes.”
Harold asked, “How could something that isn’t real be used at all?”
“Are analogies ‘real’?” asked White Jesus.
Harold didn’t know how to answer.
White Jesus said, “That’s what I thought … get it? No? Never mind.” White Jesus handed the canteen to Harold. He stopped walking and took a drink. He handed the canteen back to White Jesus who said, “I don’t think we can explain much more about your daughter, not right now, anyway. However, you were also wondering about where all the people went, right?”
Harold nodded yes.
White Jesus said, “Um, this is difficult to explain as well. The being manifesting as your daughter shifted time when she blew up the house because of the way she set her intentions. Your daughter was a human who had discovered that she was only a manifestation of her being. Even after she discovered that, she didn’t know what it meant, but she did glimpse understanding and that glimpse allowed her to purposefully act in a way that shifted time so that you might have a chance, as a human, to understand that you are a being manifested as a human. Understanding that as a human does not give you access, so to speak, to being a being, but at least you know that you’re humanness is a temporary and, in the scheme of things, rather inconsequential phenomenon. In other words, your daughter was giving you the chance to take yourself less seriously … as a human.”
Harold pondered these words. The three Jesus’s remained silent, giving Harold some thinking space. Harold looked at the foothills in the distance and remained focused on them except for occasional glances at the ground to make sure he wasn’t stepping on a cactus or into a hole. By focusing his eyes on the foothills, an unchanging vision ahead of him, he was able to think more deeply. Something within him shifted. He could feel it. His worry and sadness about his daughter was dissipating. His anxieties about the disappearance of people were gradually lessening.
As Harold was thinking and discovering and freeing himself from certain shackles, Asian Jesus handed Harold the pipe. Harold lit it and inhaled the smoke. He held it in for a few seconds and exhaled. He sighed deeply and handed the pipe back to Asian Jesus. Harold’s mind felt even clearer than it had been.
Asian Jesus said to the other Jesus’s, “I think our friend is beginning to let go. He’s exhibiting signs of peace.”
Black Jesus and White Jesus looked at Harold. They smiled and nodded yes. They turned their heads back to look ahead of them as they continued walking.
The day was surprisingly warm. It had begun so cold, but out in the desert the sun was deliciously warming. There was just the faintest of breezes. There were butterflies fluttering past now and then. Occasionally, Harold saw a lizard scrambling for safety. When they passed Mesquite and Palo Verde trees, usually in the shallow washes, Harold saw birds’ nests. He could hear birds chirping, too, and occasionally saw one flying up above.
But mostly Harold focused on the foot hills. He liked the jagged dark red-brown peaks juxtaposed against the blue sky. There was no smog out here, they were far enough away from the city and they were also upwind of it. His mind was pleasantly blank.
White Jesus said, “I know you’re enjoying yourself, Harold, and I am glad. I want you to understand, to the degree you are able, what your daughter did when she shifted time. I cannot explain how she shifted time because you won’t be able to understand. What I can tell you is that time shifted in such a way that you are now living a day behind everyone else. The reason no one is around is because they are today. You are yesterday. It’s a time/space thing and, as such, it doesn’t exist as it is, but it causes what you know, but don’t understand, as your perception to be as it is. The smoke you’ve been inhaling is helping somewhat, but only to a small degree. That’s all that’s possible for you … ‘right now.’ That’s human speak for something that cannot be understood as a human.”
Harold was flummoxed. “I want to focus on the time shift thing. My daughter shifted time so that I would be able to understand that my existence as a human is a manifestation of my being rather than my actual being?”
Black Jesus said, “Yes … in a way.”
Harold continued, “And the time shift occurred in such a way that I exist yesterday while everyone else exists … today?”
Asian Jesus responded, “Yes … in a way. But let me add that you, the human you, also exists today. There is a manifestation of you as human that is living today while you as human here with us is living yesterday. ‘Today’ you knows nothing about ‘yesterday’ you.”
Harold quickly asked, “But if that’s the case, then what does ‘today me’ think about … yesterday.”
White Jesus responded, “What you call ‘today you’ has a memory of the previous day that is not at all like what you are experiencing yesterday.”
Harold said, “I think I understand what you mean and I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t had I not been smoking whatever it is that I’ve been smoking.”
Asian Jesus said, “It’s a substance that doesn’t exist for ‘today humans.’ It can only be smoked yesterday.”
Harold smiled. “That makes perfect sense.”
The three Jesus’s looked at one another and then at Harold. They stopped and smiled at Harold. Harold could see a glowing light surrounding each of them. He dropped to his knees in awe.
White Jesus laughed. “Hey, come on, Harold, we’ve got more walking to do. We’re all glad to see that you’re beginning to see, though.”
They continued walking for another 15 minutes. When they climbed up a bank out of a deeper wash, there was an old Chevy Blazer up ahead of them. It was jacked way up; Harold figured it must have had a four-inch lift kit. As they walked over, Harold saw an Arab woman dressed in a white robe. She had long black hair and her fingernails were painted pastel pink.
White Jesus turned to Harold and said, “I’d like you to meet Arab Jesus.” Arab Jesus extended her hand to Harold and they shook.
Harold was in a mild state of confusion. Black Jesus saw this and said, “Yes, Harold, Arab Jesus is a woman. Try not to think in terms of sexual or gender identity. It’ll make things easier for you. Remember, we’re all just manifestations of being. That’s not just true today; it’s also true yesterday.”
Harold asked, “Is there a tomorrow?”
Arab Jesus laughed, “Oh, you have been having that conversation. Very good. Very, very good. Come, get into the Blazer and I’ll drive you to camp."
…
See you next time. Same Bat-time, same Bat-channel
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