“I keep looking for the signs.” ~The National (“Hard to Find”)

“You sigh—your song, you’re saw.” ~Sigur Rós (Untitled #7, in Hopelandic)

The Peaks of Pelion

The following came through to me in a dream.

I find myself standing in sand surrounded by sparse clumps of long grass. This is a beach beside a river inlet next to a bay. Nearby, toward the water, a figure is bent over in sorrow or confusion. Or neither of those things, perhaps, since this was only my first impression. Remaining bent over, I see the figure is not motionless; the bend of both elbows suggests they are holding and shaking something small but heavy at shoulder-height. Stepping closer, onto the hard-packed sand within reach of the water, I watch as the movement of the figure’s arms suggests a downward strumming. His youth is apparent in the way he is dressed and in the spryness of his actions. I see now, beside me, I was followed closely by a silent figure who towers over my left shoulder. He is a centaur, and as a horse he appears to be a Destrier, and as a man he appears to be fiercely intelligent. His sharp blue eyes are not on me, but on Orpheus, the young man we have been approaching. When the centaur’s presence is known, Orpheus looks up and smiles.

Orpheus: I feel like you sent me to do laundry.

Cheiron: I did send you to do laundry.

Orpheus: I feel like you sent me to do laundry because you are disappointed in me.

Cheiron: Our clothes need cleaning. Your hands are as good as any.

The centaur patiently strolled past Orpheus as he pulled a ball of steaming cloth from the scalding water of his basin. Selecting a single shirt, he flopped it down on the washboard and strummed it as a soapy froth rolled off the board. From the blooming flowers on the flowerbed beside the shore, I can assume this is happening in late spring or early summer. The sweetness of pollen and nectar came across in peaks just above the neutral redolence of sea salt. At this temperature and humidity, and at such an early time in the morning, I expected the gradual swarming of mosquitoes. But nothing came near me. In fact, nothing moved in the air except a pair of finches by the blooming flowerbed.

Orpheus: I have to admit, I’m still not entirely used to being here. This place is very nice, and so are the other students, but it’s all very intimidating—including you.

Cheiron: Surely! I am the half-brother of Zeus. Did you know that? Most other centaurs are savages, but I would say they are on principle. As for me, I’d say I’ve done well to abate myself enough to seem almost rideable! Wouldn’t you agree? …By the way, I’m sure I’ve said this before, but never, ever, try to ride a centaur. You won’t live long enough to tell about it.

Orpheus: You let Antiphon ride on your back just two days ago.

Cheiron: That was to prove a point…You seem sad this morning, Orpheus. Would you say so?

Orpheus: Yes, I suppose I am. A classmate left for home last night, and she was my best friend.

Cheiron: Aceso?

Orpheus: Yes. She was the brightest student here, and now she’s gone and she’s not coming back. Why?

Cheiron strode closer, then with his front left hoof, kicked up a pair of trousers that had fallen out of the laundry basin and into the sand.

Cheiron: Her mother was struck by a serious injury. Aceso is going home to care for her and take on her household duties.

Orpheus: I didn’t realize. Will her mother be okay? …She didn’t even tell me.

Cheiron: Aceso left as soon as she found out. Apollo says Asclepius is nearby, so her mother’s chances are good. But even those are chances. And if this is of any comfort to you, Apollo tells me her brother Machaon will be so inspired by the family crisis that he’ll soon come here to train.

Orpheus shows no signs of comfort gained from all of this information. Instead he continues to work while staring out at the hills across the bay. The sunlight grows stronger every minute, raising the mist that hung just above the bay in a matter of moments. What had been a person-high cloud has evaporated and lifted over the water as a log-thick cloud just above the reach of Cheiron. And even now, so shortly after sunrise, the sunlight feels warm on my forearms.

Orpheus: It’s hard to see someone work so hard only to drop it all in a stroke of bad fortune. It makes me worry about all she’ll miss. Because, already, I miss her.

Cheiron: Oh, but what is education anyway, Orpheus? Haven’t we talked about this? We aren’t here for our own benefit, we are here for the benefit of society. To return is to bring our knowledge and make improvement. Remember? We spoke about this at great length.

Orpheus: Yes, I remember.

Cheiron: Oh, I know I’ve said there is a dreadful difference between having and not having an education. And this difference is indiscernible without one. And I’ve said that knowledge is only the manner of doing something, while an education is knowing what to do, or even: why. And this distinction is neither, right? …Education is an aim at a greatest good a person can do. For Aceso, her greatest good will be right in front of her with every wish she grants for her family. Because they would do it for her. As for the education she would have received here, it waits faithfully for someone else. …Is there anything or anyone you would be willing to go off and rescue? To leave for, with this world behind you, if only briefly?

Orpheus took a wet load under his arm towards a large boulder away from the shore. He began preparing the clothes to hang on lines that ran between two trees just beyond the beach. He pinned and clipped three shirts and a pair of pants before it was clear he wasn’t going to respond to Cheiron’s question.

Orpheus: I’ve been here for awhile now, haven’t I? And I don’t know anything. All I can do is ask questions. And wash laundry. It’s harder to leave something behind when that something is so close to nothing.

Cheiron: For 100,000 years, mankind has come here to ask: Who am I and why am I here? And across those millennia, the cosmos has given the same answer. Now tell me, Orpheus: Doesn’t that find you as a reassurance?

As Cheiron had spoken, his arms were folded across his chest. As he said this last part about reassurance, he turned his head towards the peaks of Pelion which were towering behind us. Orpheus had stood still to listen, and from the suggestion made by the gesture of Cheiron, he now looks up at Pelion. The bright morning light has touched the green of the mountain foliage with serotonin and saudade tones of orange and white. Behind the rocky peaks, the sky is opened with a deep, piercing blue.

Cheiron: From a high enough viewpoint, the entire world is visible from a single perspective. But the only way to bring change is with one’s feet on the ground. I know you won’t believe me, but I am happy for Aceso. When you find what you’re looking for, you’ll want to keep it right in front of you and right next to you.

Some distance up the shore, there is a lodge with a column of smoke rising up into the sky. Cheiron briskly ran to it and disappeared inside without Orpheus noticing he had left. Now he returns with a simple-yet-ornate lyre strung with twelve strings. Cheiron walks quietly past Orpheus with the lyre, and when it is clear that Orpheus is too focused on his washboard, Cheiron picks at it, pretending to clean it.

Orpheus: Is that a lyre? What is it made of? I’ve never seen anything like it.

Cheiron: It is fashioned from a tortoise shell. Isn’t it something? The strings are strung across the collarbones. The hollow creates just the right amount of resonance…

Orpheus: Where did you get it?

Cheiron: Apollo.

Orpheus: Oh, I should have guessed.

As Orpheus’ attention for the lyre grows past a curiosity, he doesn’t allow himself the disappointment of reaching or asking for a closer look. Cheiron, with a light smile, picks a single string and lets it hum.

Cheiron: When Daedelus arrived here, he told me he wanted to learn to build ships. He said to me, “I want to be known as the finest shipbuilder in the world.” He asked me for plans and schematics and for knowledge about the rules of motion. He filled his head with everything a shipbuilder could require. Yet on shore, no ships did appear. Though his mind could conjure a thousand ships of all shapes and sizes…Then one day he went up a slope. This one here – do you see the trail there? After some time, he returned and started building. I asked him what changed and he said to me, “I am building a ship so I can sail.”

Orpheus: So he built one?

Cheiron: Yes. It almost stayed afloat, too.

Orpheus: What? It sank?

Cheiron: Yes! His first boat made it no further than the throw of a rock. Don’t tell him I told you! It’s submerged out there – the wreckage is the happy home to all sorts of colorful sea life.

Orpheus chuckled to himself as though he shouldn’t.

Cheiron: What is remarkable about Daedalus, though, is that the moment he fails, he instantly starts working again. As though he is completely undaunted. In fact – and this will sound strange – Daedalus has a way of making another attempt within an attempt. So subtle is his craft that he cares not for perfection, only the honing of his methods...And by the time he’s done, you’d think he’s done what he meant to do all along.

Orpheus: I believe I understand what you mean, teacher. Only vaguely, though…

While Orpheus picked up the remainder of his supplies and emptied his water basin on the sand, Cheiron strode towards the shore and carried with him the lyre. As a wave pulled itself past his front hooves and grazed the sand skirting his back hooves, he plucked a triad of notes on the lyre and listened to the harmony of the resonance in the shell and the echo off the trees. This moment of change has transpired, and now Cheiron looks back and sees Orpheus standing behind him, staring intently.

Orpheus: Did you say Daedalus went for a hike, then came back and began building ships?

Cheiron: Something like that. I think he may have spent some time camping out up there.

Cheiron looked up the mountain and pointed with his free hand.

Orpheus: I have an idea. Thank you, teacher.

Cheiron smiled and said “You’re welcome.” In that moment, Orpheus ran back to camp to collect a foraging of supplies for an excursion up the mountain. He put on a coonskin cap, pulled together an armful of books before setting them aside; then he grabbed a knife, his snare, and enough food and cooking supplies to last a week. It was evening when he finally set off. I trailed him all the way to the highest of three summits. It afforded an uninterrupted, panoramic view of the south and east, while the north and west backed him with a tall row of cedars. He settled in and smiled. Then I overheard him say to himself: “In this notebook, I will unveil the contents of my mind and the desires of my heart.” He sat on a large, sloping boulder and stared east towards the bay…Surely I fell asleep, because it seemed as though quite some time had passed. It could have been days, even—weeks. Though when I looked at Orpheus, he was sitting in the same place. Now he was sleeping, as though he’d fallen asleep while on a lookout. I could see he’d written nothing in his notebook. He stirred, woke up and watched as the morning stars dissolved in the thickening sky like fish bones in brine. Warm tones of red, orange and pink began to arise. Orpheus kept himself still as a familiar scene unfolded on the bay. This morning, a thick blanket of mist slowly lifted and vanished, leaving nothing but clear, blue water. Beside this, a column of smoke from Cheiron’s lodge rose to melt into a row of small cumulous clouds. Apprehending this beauty transform and leave itself behind, Orpheus resigned himself to remain motionless and watch it unfold. He took off down the trail. By the time I made it to Cheiron’s lodge, Orpheus was there too, having spent the time to collect all of his belongings from his dorm. He set them beside the door, then he knocked and entered. When I caught up, he was already speaking with Cheiron.

Orpheus: Because, teacher, I am in love. There’s nothing more to know about it. And she’s the sweetest girl in the world. And beautiful—you should just see her! There’s nowhere else for me to be than there. I don’t need a choice, Cheiron, I have to go find her…

Cheiron had been standing and reading by the window, and when Orpheus came in to make his report, the teacher simply closed his book and listened.

Orpheus: I’ll never see things the same, and I’ve never really seen. I’ll remember forever, and I’ve already forgotten. And this girl: I want to meet her and marry her in the same instant. Does all of this make sense? Even her name is a mystery, which I’ll have known forever. Will she call for me if I ask her to? What can I do to bring her one step closer…Just one step closer?

Cheiron walked over to Orpheus, leaned far forward and put his hands softly on Orpheus’s shoulders. He looked him in the eye to say something with difficulty and earnestness.

Cheiron: Orpheus, I don’t understand what you are saying…I do not understand.

Orpheus didn’t smile and say okay. He didn’t try to repeat himself a different way. He didn’t feel the comfort and joy of having a place in the world. Instead he shook his head. Cheiron retrieved Apollo’s lyre off a nearby shelf. He held it carefully and prepared himself to say one last thing to his young student.

Cheiron: You are always welcome here, Orpheus, but I think you know what you need to do. This instrument is for you…Take this with you, and you won’t look back.

With this instruction, Orpheus took the lyre. He nodded, smiled, and once again thanked his teacher. On his way through the door, he grabbed his belongings and slung them over his shoulder. Now, I watch as he walks towards the path beyond the gate. His eyes are on his hands, which have found their way to a basic rhythm and a sense for the minor and major chords.

Kevin Umhoefer May 19th, 2018 – November 20th, 2020 Thank You