The Peaks of Pelion

The following came through to me in a dream.

Nearby, a figure is bent over in sorrow or confusion. Or neither of those things, perhaps, since I have just arrived. Remaining bent over, I see the figure is not motionless; the bend of both elbows suggests something small is being lifted or shaken. Stepping closer and reaching the sand, I watch the movement of the figure’s arm suggest a downward strumming. I see now, beside me, I was followed closely by a silent figure who towers over my left shoulder. He is a , 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 , 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 as Orpheus pulled a ball of steaming cloth from scalding water. Selecting a single shirt, he strummed it down the washboard as a soapy froth rolled down. From the blooming flowers on the flowerbed beside the shore, I assumed it is 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 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 you are a very intimidating figure.

Cheiron: I am the half-brother of . Did you know that? Most other 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 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. says 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 showed no signs of comfort gained from all of this information. Instead he continued to work while staring out at the hills across the bay. The sunlight grew stronger in every minute, raising the mist that hung just above the bay in a matter of moments. What had been a person- high cloud had evaporated and lifted to be a log-thick cloud at the height of Cheiron’s head. And even then, so shortly after sunrise, the sunlight felt 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 for hours, didn’t we?

Orpheus: Yes, I remember.

Cheiron: Oh, I know I’ve said there is a dreadful difference between having an education and not having one. And this difference is indiscernible without one. And I’ve said that knowledge is only the manner of doing something, and an education is knowing what to do. And this distinction is neither, somehow. 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 her family. Because they would do it for her. As for the education she would have gotten here: it waits faithfully for someone else.

Orpheus took a wet load under his arm towards a large boulder closer to the water. He began preparing the clothes to hang on the lines that run between two beachside trees. He pinned and clipped three shirts and a pair of pants before it was clear he wouldn’t 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.

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 reassurance?

As Cheiron said this, his arms were folded across his chest. As he had said this last part, about reassurance, he turned his head towards the peaks of Pelion which were towering behind them. Orpheus had stood still to listen, and from the suggestion of Cheiron, he looked up at Pelion as well. The bright morning light had turned the green of the mountain foliage into the serotonin and saudade tones of orange, yellow and autumn.

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.

Behind us, further up the shore, there was 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. Soon he had returned with a simple-yet-ornate strung with twelve strings. Cheiron walked quietly past Orpheus with the lyre, and when it was clear that Orpheus was too focused on his washboard, Cheiron clumsily pretended to clean it.

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

Cheiron: It’s the back of a tortoise’s shell. Isn’t it something? The strings are strung across its collarbones.

Orpheus: Where did you get it?

Cheiron: Apollo.

Orpheus: Oh, I should have guessed.

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 of the rules of motion. He filled his head with everything a ship could require, and 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 the slope. This one here – do you see the trail there? After some time, he came down. Then he started building, and he said to me, “I want to build 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 one made it no further than a furlong. Don’t tell him I told you! It’s submerged out there – the wreckage is the happy home to colorful sea life.

Orpheus chuckled to himself as though he shouldn’t.

Cheiron: What is remarkable about , though, is that the moment he fails, he instantly starts working again. As though undaunted. In fact – and this will sound strange – he has a way of making another attempt within an attempt. So subtle is his craft. And by the time he’s done, you’d think it was what he’d meant to do all along.

Orpheus: I believe I understand what you mean, teacher.

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 nearly to his back hooves, he plucked a triad of notes on the lyre and listened to their through the shell and off the trees. He looked back and Orpheus was behind him.

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 a day trip up the mountain. He put on a coonskin cap, pulled together an armful of books before ditching them at the last minute since they would have added too much unnecessary weight. It was evening when he finally set off. I trailed him on his six mile hike 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 wall of cedars. He settled in and smiled. Then I overheard him say “In this notebook, I will place the contents of my heart.” After that, the rest of the moment belonged entirely to him. He sat on a large, sloping boulder and stared East towards the bay…Either he fell asleep or I did, because it seemed as though quite some time had passed. When I looked at him, he was still sitting in the same place, staring in the same direction. He’d written nothing in his notebook. I watched as the morning stars dissolved in the thickening sky like fish bones in brine. Warm tones of red and pink began to arise. Orpheus kept himself still as a familiar scene unfolded on the bay. Like it had the day before, the thick blanket of mist slowly lifted and vanished, leaving nothing but clear, blue water. The column of smoke from Cheiron’s lodge rose to melt into a row of small cumulous clouds. And apprehending this beauty transform itself, all Orpheus could do was watch it unfold. He took off down the trail. By the time I made it to Cheiron’s lodge, Orpheus was there too, and had time to collect all of his belongings from his dorm. He set them by the door as he went in to talk with Cheiron.

Orpheus: Cheiron, I am in love. With the sweetest girl in the world. I would have been with her just now if I’d let myself stay empty. Instead I have to go find her…

Cheiron had been reading by the window, and when Orpheus came in to make his report, he 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 worth wondering about. What can I do to possess her? To bring her just one step closer…

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

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

Orpheus didn’t smile and say okay. He didn’t try to repeat himself in a different way. He didn’t feel the comfort and joy of a welcome happiness. Instead he shook his head.

At the right moment, Cheiron retrieved Apollo’s lyre. He prepared himself to say one last thing to his young student.

Cheiron: I think you know what you need to do. 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. As he walked towards the path beyond the gate, his eyes were on his hands, which found their way to the basic sense of the minor and major chords.

Kevin Jones May 19th, 2018