Goodwin

Goodwin rustled between his slubbed cotton / linen sheets crumpling his hand-woven Bhutanese bedcover. Below his wrinkled eyelids danced a world of mystery. His dreams that evening had been sparse but now they were activated. Running through a dark and misty jungle, moonbeams were skipping in his eyes and reflecting from the rice paper wings of tiny yellow fairies. These fairies were giggling at him and he joined them in with an echoing song of laughter. As he ran the jungle got thicker. Long ferns collided and different flowers got knocked open, and these large petaled flowers sprayed from their pistils streams of powdered dust which covered Goodwin as he stumbled. Roots began to slide around on the ground and between them chocolate puddles swallowed his feet. He felt branches catching his arms, vines sliding through his legs, and big wet leaves slap him in his face. The golden dust from the flowers began to run in streaks down his legs as eyes appeared from thousands of dark crannies in the jungle. He felt the jungle breathing and he yelped trying to get a breath himself. The breathing turned into a pulsating and it vibrated into him through the plants, the roots, the vines, the trees, the gold dust, and the eyes. They all seemed to purr at the same frequency and this calmed his muscles, relaxed his tension. Giving up his guard, the vines unwound. The leaves receded. The roots vanished. Goodwin stood in the dark in front of a beast floating in the air. It was half tiger, half women with peacock feathers and it seemed to change angles rapidly as if it had the help of a strobe light. Goodwin’s vocal chords vibrated instinctually and from the depths of his dream he let out a primordial growl. A deep throated, hoarse, and squeaky growl. It fled his lips and reverberated around his room and down the hall to the room of his sister, Melinda.

“Goodwin you are always making noises in your sleep, and rustling around like tumble weed but that noise was different.”

Melinda sat at the edge of Goodwin’s bed with a concerned look and her favorite silk nighty. Her brown hair was resting curled on her shoulders, and her rosy cheeks and warm eyes looked puffy from sleep.

“When I heard that sound it not only woke me up, but it made me tingle… it felt weird. Goodwin are you, ok?”

Goodwin had lived with his sister for the past five months, and now at the age of nineteen he felt ready to live without her motherly concern, and feminine nuances. Goodwin mid yawn, half asleep, muttered: “The cutest little fairies, ahhhh, but not that humm arghh, tiger lady….”

The words melted into a sigh as Goodwin nestled between his brocade pillows and flirted with his next dream.

“Did you say tiger lily? Goodwin? Wake up Goodwin your scaring me.”

Chapter II

Goodwin scared a lot of people but especially his parents. They had mapped out elaborate plans and teetering expectations for their brave young son, which he had met with indifference. Their vision of a gung ho, super achiever, leader of men was replaced with a more lackadaisical, and mild mannered breed of male. Not to say Goodwin lacked intelligence. The wealth of what Goodwin had to offer was always stirring just under his soft, mischievous grin. It sparkled behind his mannerisms but only those with insight noticed. Goodwin himself was at this time mostly unaware of his secret charm, or fresh potential. His bumbling movements, boyish hazel eyes, and thick grassy hair all carried the look of a craggy young fellow. But his good friends knew a different Goodwin.

Man’s desires can be summed up very simply into a few strategic words. Long enunciated words that trail off in wishful syllables. These words, or desires are what carry most men around from action to reaction, and keep them blind from the truth of their existence. Diiiiiinner………., sleeeeeeeeep……, women………, masssssage……….., cawfeee…, smohhhhhhhke……….. . Goodwin’s strongest and most shining quality was freedom from the nagging web of these distractions and illusions. As his friends howled at women, burned for gratification, and weaseled their hides to and fro, Goodwin laughed, Goodwin sighed. He often joined them for his own amusement.

One such occasion took place at Harriet’s chamber, a local bar in southern San Diego where Goodwin and his buddies occasionally made an appearance.

Dancing in the corner of the dimly lit bar was Melinda’s best friend Tanja. Always a fascination to the eye she moved almost tribally to the choppy beat of salsa music. Her long dark hair had small curls and was glazed in a deep bronze finish. Her eyes gleamed and her body spoke. Slender muscular shoulders sank to a shoulder-less blouse, and long dark legs shifted her mini-skirt ferociously. Devendra, the most energetic of Goodwin’s pals, put his arm nonchalantly around Goodwin and said

“Goodwin Mang, what is up with your sister’s friend, she is banging!”

Goodwin put down his warm buttered rum and replied with a knowing smile.

The code of Goodwin’s friends when it came to women was simple. Those with contacts initiated, or sparked the approach. After this, all men were equal and all hands were played. Some discreetly and some not so discreetly...

Goodwin, in the manner of a decent and playful chap, did the Marengo towards fiery Tanja.

As he shaked, seeing his on looking friends through flashing green, and red lights, and over the sticky beer stained floor, Goodwin had a flash back.

“Goodwin, your grades are good, you seem to have a knack for science. Why not join the academy for inter-stellar observation and quantum physics?”

Goodwin leaned back in a mahogany leather armchair, looked up suspiciously to the stalking figure of his father, which paced back and forth across the beach wood floor of his executive office. Taking another sip of Nepali tea, a family favorite, Goodwin allowed the steam to rise up into his face, and the sweet spices to mingle in his nostrils.

“Your grandfather has built a legacy, a strong family tradition, and his discoveries and work in astronomy not only deserve your respect, they also must be continued.”

“Father,” Goodwin replied,

“The study of our physical universe, its expansion, its distance scales, from quasars to quarks (the building blocks of atoms) is fascinating, but do you feel fulfilled after a lifetime of tedious measuring, and exhausting calculations?”

As Goodwin’s sentence trailed off he met his father’s eyes and his left eyebrow slightly lifted.

“Hmmmmmmmmm” his father loved making this noise.

“You know I love tinkering with numbers, Goodwin, but it’s the big answers that have kept me going.” His father continued.

Goodwin turned his head to the window and gazed to the ocean watching the waves crash and roll up the beige sand sparkling in the moonlight.

“And what are these big answers……………”

Goodwin paused

“And where can they be found?”

Goodwin was lost in this question allowing it to expand in his mind freely as his eyes pierced into the black evening ocean.

“Goodwin why are you staring at me like that?”

The deep dark ocean had transformed into the beautiful dark eyes of Tanja, whom he stood motionless in front of, in the middle of a sweaty group of people dancing around him. Steel drums and deep bass filtered into his awareness, and Goodwin without answering began to dance close to Tanja. She shook her head and adjusted her lips into a smirk as she resumed dancing.

After another interlude of eye contact Goodwin leaned closely to his sister’s friend and whispered into her ear.

“Are you a tiger or a lady?”

As he brought his head back to give an inquiring look he felt her dark curly hair brush against him and release a faint smell of mangos in the sea breeze.

“She is exotic.” Goodwin thought to himself.

Her dark eyes seemed to giggle at him as she closed in unexpectedly and met his lips with her white teeth gripping them firmly she slid her tongue slowly and expertly around his mouth. As she pulled it out she grated his bottom lip once more with her incisors.

“Does that answer you question?” she asked playfully.

Goodwin, completely surprised, swayed, with his hazel eyes widened. He had never been kissed like that and it struck him, unexpectedly surging new feelings of passion, and fear through his abdominal region. His eyes blinked as he savored the kiss. The taste of the warm buttered rum still lingered on his lips. Turning away from Tonja he suddenly made an exit throught the dance floor past his friends and into the warm night of southern San Diego.

Sitting alone in the sand by the mighty pacific, Goodwin clutched at the sand and felt its smooth grains run through his fingers.

He had walked around aimlessly in the night and somehow found himself at Pagoda Beach.

“Goodwin” an echoing call made its way to the beach followed by the pattering of feet.

“I knew I would find you here”

Goodwin’s friend Ian plummeted down next to him and took a long gulp from a bottle of burgundy wine he had with him. Feeling the wine slide down into his belly, Ian welcomed the night breeze. Pulling his hair back into a ponytail he leaned back into the sand.

“You know Goodwin, life is a lot like surfing”

Ian was from Australia and had met Goodwin years ago on the boardwalk near Bonita Cove.

“You need to know how the waves form and how they break to ride them successfully.”

“Is that more of the Hindu philosophy you picked up surfing in Bali?” asked Goodwin as he accepted the wine from his friend.

“That was an interesting performance you made at Harriet’s Place.” Ian added.

A large wave crashed on the shore and slid up the beach barely touching the toes of both of them.

“I can see you have been riding many different waves lately, what you need is to come with me next month to Bali. A little surfing, maybe some time in the jungle, these things will clean your mind, give you a fresh perspective.”

“Bali, a Hindu enclave, is magical from its fresh juices and rich coffee to the gentle people and warm culture. Bali has been my favorite stomping grounds from my days as a young Australian lad.”

“Jungle?” Goodwin asked, as he leaned back even further and took in the stars.

The heavens were illumined under the clear Californian sky. My stars, my universe, my ocean, Goodwin thought. Taking another sip from the wine he smiled inwardly and put his arm around his friend.

“You’re the man, Ian.” Goodwin spoke evenly and honestly.

“No! You the man.” Ian replied.

Bali was amazing. Shockingly Goodwin’s parents loved the idea and privately agreed it may be effective in renewing Goodwin’s academic interests.

Ian took Goodwin under his wing, and brought him everywhere. Goodwin met local families, ate in their mud-slab huts, played in the shelved rice fields with the village children, danced through the ocean and got pummeled by waves. Laughing as he choked on frothy seawater, Goodwin felt himself letting go: offering his being to the island, the ocean, the people, the sun.

Ian was completely in his element. His darkened skin carried nothing but shorts and a seashell necklace. His schoolboy grin reflected smiles from everybody. He had one friend whom Goodwin became quite fond of………Govinda.

Govinda was brought up outside of Kuta in a small village named Puri Bambu. In this community he was cherished as a strong, and wise boy, and the elders paid much attention to him. After schooling in the afternoon he would wander past blushing girls, families of chickens, roaming cows, and bamboo offering trays to the temple.

Well versed in the scriptures of India, Govinda learned quickly the art of living and the nature of being. It showed in his eyes, his movements and his presence.

Goodwin noticed immediately how well Govinda listened, how silently he sat, and how well he understood him. Goodwin felt compelled to speak to him about his life, his thoughts, and his deepest questions.

Very often during his stay Goodwin would leave alone from his cabana, jump on his scooter, and drive out to Puri Bambu to see Govinda.

One evening, walking down a rocky dirt road lined with wild ferns, palm trees, and a chipped white fence, Govinda and Goodwin watched the indigo sky turn purple as the last orange rays of the sun melted into the horizon. The colors from the sky created a warm earthy glow and everything seemed to be held in its hue. The high cheekbones, sharp eyebrows, and round chin of Govinda seemed to express total comfort with his own self and an uncanny oneness with his surroundings.

He turned his head and smiled, and as Goodwin searched his eyes for a source to this man’s joy he heard laughing. The warm red color seemed to cover everything and a strange heat seemed to be spreading through Goodwin’s body.

“Where is that laughing coming from?”

Govinda just smiled. Feeling a bead of sweat form at his hairline Goodwin stopped to examine his hands and body, which felt so vibrant.

“You should come out tomorrow night, Goodwin. There is a very special ceremony here in Puri Bambu, and I would like you to join us.”

Driving back to Kuta, the night felt cool and the wind caressed his head as he passed the statue of Arjuna and his chariot. Arjuna’s face was so calm, so steady. He looked as though no person, no demon, no turn of events could shake his resolve, or touch his spirit. This, Goodwin decided, is what I must attain to. As he turned onto Jalan Rayan, the main street that runs through Kuta, he was absorbed into a school of traffic. Motorbikes, scooters, cars, and trucks all flowed together.

Laying in his woven hammock inside his cabana, Goodwin’s thoughts seemed new and unusual. As he thought of the people in his life from his friends to his parents he realized that he didn’t really miss them all that much. Is this strange, Goodwin thought? After years of aimlessness and never really having to struggle towards anything, Goodwin felt alive. He wasn’t sure why, but he felt a deep longing, a mysterious excitement. The spirit of the island and the spirit of the people had showed him something for his heart to reach for. He felt determination, and purpose. He felt like there was another world just under his fingertips, secretly operating, but what was it…

Goodwin slept deeply. He did not dream.

Chapter III

The parakeets chirped busily outside of Ian’s window in the morning sun. They fluttered from branch to branch and one buried her lime green head under her wing cleaning her feathers. Ian rolled over lazily and noticed the time from the bedside clock: 9:30 a.m. He rose sliding on his rayon batik bathrobe over his tan shoulders, lit a beady, and went to grind some Balinese coffee beans in the kitchen. The sun shone through the small kitchen window of the cabana and as Goodwin appeared in the doorway he saw Ian basking in it. The smoke from his beady swirled and smelt sweet as it shone in the morning light.

“Coffee?” Ian said without turning.

“No thanks.”

Goodwin looked brisk as he took a seat next to the window by the small wicker table they used to eat their meals.

“So do you feel yourself getting used to the pace in Bali?” Ian’s rhetorical question made Goodwin smile.

“Where are we going next?” Goodwin asked.

“Home, San Diego. I got classes this fall, man, you know the routine.”

This did not make Goodwin smile. Squinting from the sun, Ian took a sip of his coffee and sat down across from his friend.

“There is a ceremony outside of Puri Bambu in the jungle. It will be the perfect finale to our trip. Would you be in to that, goody Goodwin?”

“Govinda told me. It’s amazing that we will be here for this ceremony which only takes place every fifty years.” Goodwin responded

Goodwin sat thoughtfully.

“It seems more like fate.” Ian said nonchalantly.

Then Ian started singing in a deep voice with Australian undertones:

“Goodwin, take a little time

To ease your mind, my friend

And only then can you descend

Into the sea of melody”

Finishing his refrain, Ian threw on a shirt and went for a newspaper.

When Ian and Goodwin arrived at Puri Bambu, they were led through the jungle into a clearing tucked away from the village. Surrounded by trees, a hill leveled off at the top was full of people. At the bottom of the hill, Goodwin heard a river rushing, and birds chirping in the trees. People were dancing and cutting fruit, and arranging flowers for the offerings. The Balinese believe in perfection and this is displayed through their intricate offerings. They take hours; carving mangos, peaches, and they adorn them with flowers and incense. These are then thrown into the ocean. Hours of delicate work become washed away in seconds. This shows the transience of all things, and the perfection behind them. Appeasement of the gods, and the ancestors is very important. Goodwin quickly noticed that many of the women did not have tops on. He tried to ignore this by looking for Govinda. He could see that the ceremony was not quite started, and he felt out of place as everyone prepared. Govinda was nowhere to be found, and Ian was off drinking wine. Feeling useless, Goodwin decided to take a walk, a nice stroll in the lush jungle. He followed the field as it sloped down. Near the edge of the jungle it was very steep, and he grabbed a tree for support as he watched his footing. That tree was Govinda.

“Where you going?” Govinda spoke in Balinese.

“Oh hi, I was looking for you but, ah, I was going take a walk when I couldn’t find you, how are you Govinda?” Goodwin awkwardly took his hand off Govinda as he talked.

“Perfect, and so are you.” Govinda replied.

“So when do the festivities begin?” Goodwin said changing the subject.

“Sunset, so feel free to take a walk, there is knowledge there.”

Govinda answered.

They parted with a smile, and as Goodwin made his way cautiously through the trees and into the jungle he could feel the air get warm, and moist. Goodwin remembered running through the forest as a child at his parent’s camp in Northern California. He would hop over mossy logs, skip over babbling streams, and climb trees on important missions to conquer the enemy. After playing, he would come back to his parents log cabin. At night his Dad would go out with him and show him the stars. Goodwin would ask all kinds of questions, kid’s questions, like how far away is that star, and how long would it take to get to the end of the universe. His Dad would laugh and patiently answer to the best of his ability. Then one night Goodwin asked a question that his Dad couldn’t answer: “what made the universe?”

Goodwin could not believe that his Dad who had all the answers did not know this. Goodwin faintly remembered promising himself that he would find this out one day and then tell his Dad. He was so excited to have something to learn about that his Dad didn’t know. He remembered how determined he was.

As Goodwin walked he listened to the birds of Bali. Pacific Swallows, Java Sparrows, and Golden Whistlers chirped and chattered in the afternoon sun. A light breeze whispered through the branches of the green palm trees, and a couple butterflies glided upon it. The light of the sun shimmered in the leaves as they shook from the breeze. For a moment, Goodwin stopped and just absorbed the sight of the jungle.

The phrase: “dancing in the stillness” came to his mind, and he decided to go down a bit further to the bank of the river. The water flowed softly through the earth, and in front of Goodwin it swirled around a couple of rocks. This created tiny whirlpools and Goodwin watched as floating leaves came down the water and spun into the whirlpool. One leaf just kept spinning there. In this cool setting of the jungle that was so alive, Goodwin had a spontaneous insight.

This spiral in the river is like our galaxy. Nature abounds with mystery. The same principle that rotates our solar system, and balances the planets, exist here in this jungle. In Goodwin’s excitement, he could feel some unseen force all around him smiling with him. Agreeing with him. Prodding him to go further. It must exist everywhere, Goodwin thought. This principle that moves the water, also moves the wind, it moves all the critters of the jungle in unison. IT MOVES EVERYTHING IN UNISON! It is orchestrating from the atomic level, smaller than the smallest, yet it manifests in endless space, and ageless time, and this myriad of life, and dark matter. As these concepts came bubbling forth, he could hear the swallows chirping louder as if in total agreement, and equal excitement. Goodwin smiled brightly. He looked around at the jungle and it began to shine. Exhilarated he headed back towards the ceremony as the sun began to set.

The cool night breeze of Bali blew upon Goodwin’s grassy hair, and as he trudged out of the jungle and into the moonlit field, Goodwin saw at the top of the field a huge fire, surrounded by shadowy figures. The flames of the fire nipped at the dark sky, and beckoned Goodwin to reach the ceremony. Goodwin arrived upon the scene star struck. Half-naked bodies encircled five dancers. Three were women, and they danced slowly in fluent arm gestures. They were dressed traditionally with gold hats that arched into a point, and tightly wrapped silk sarongs, that were hand painted in gold and silver. Accompanying them were two demons. Paper machet masks, hand-painted and angry, adorned the other two dancers. They moved around ferociously displaying their strength. They made Goodwin laugh, but he did not find approval for his “outburst”. Everyone was quiet and focused. ‘Why is everyone so serious during this dance?’ Goodwin wondered. Suddenly the female dancer in the center of the troop fell to the dusty ground. Her arms and legs went into spasms as the onlookers gasped. Her body finally steadied and rose to her feet with force. She looked as though she was a puppet being swung to her feet and held there by strings. Then Goodwin looked into her eyes. Goodwin did not recognize her anymore. He felt something else looking at him through her, something very powerful. Her body swooped again this time swinging her around the circle.

“She is in trance.”

Goodwin recognized Govinda’s voice behind him.

“Who is inside her?” Goodwin asked in disbelief.

“Devi Sri, the goddess of fertility.” Govinda answered.

Goodwin watched as she sputtered some words in a screechy and unknown language. Then Goodwin went into a trance.

“She’s inside all of us” is the last thing Goodwin heard before falling into a deep pool of darkness.

Govinda put his hand on Goodwin’s shoulder and smiled watching him go under. Then he left.

Cool beams of blue light carried music to Goodwin. He felt like a baby dreaming, swinging in his imagination. He watched as many things happened. Moments of his life, past and future, flashed before him. He saw a child running through an endless field of daisies and realized that it was his mother. She looked about six, and she wore a beautiful dress that dragged upon the grass behind her. He felt an infant love, totally innocent, pass over him. This image faded into darkness. He saw tiny sparks of energy coursing around the darkness faster and faster. Then he saw stars. Millions of stars. Huge clusters. He began traveling, and finally he was in a strange world that he did not recognize at all. Two celestial goddesses came to him and scattered light with their smiles. He felt his heart waver, and his innocence flee. He could see in there eyes that they wanted to share something with him. A deep sharing of love, affection, and cosmic passion. They wanted to release that tension that was built up in Goodwin. His sexual frustration was so visible to them and they motioned towards him with bodies to set it free. Goodwin felt utterly helpless under their gaze. And he moved towards them greedily. They caught him in there arms, and as they hugged him he could feel the ecstasy of their beauty closing in on him. A feeling of wrongness also accompanied it. He felt like he was giving in to an ageless habit. A primordial urge that has toyed with beings endlessly. As their arms closed around him, their faces became tigers, and they ferociously went for his neck. The yellow stained teeth of one of the tigers met Goodwin and sunk deeply into him. At that moment Goodwin felt the power of evolution flood through him. Creatures of countless variety screamed inside of him. He felt his connection to all sentient things. His mortality was so palpable to him. The endless cry to maintain life. The endless fight of armies of creatures to survive. To be reborn and fight the dark curtain of death. The immanent reality of their falsely created selves, and unrealized desires.

Goodwin’s eyes flashed open to see a dozen people standing over him. The fire was out. He made eye contact with Govinda who was closest to him. Govinda looked very angry, and spoke to him:

“Goodwin you have failed this test. You could have gone so much further, but I guess that it is not your destiny.”

After speaking, Govinda turned around and left and everyone followed him. Goodwin stood up slowly. His clothing was soaked in sweat and his muscles shook in light spasms. A light rain began to fall and it mingled with tears that ran down his cheeks. A line of torches was leading from the clearing down a wide path in the jungle. Goodwin followed but kept his head down. He could not stop the tears or the feelings of loss. The feet of hundreds of people squished through the muddy path, and bells and hand drums sounded through the procession. A light chanting of deep voices rang from them, and lit candles on offering trays flickered in the rainy wind. The jungle on either side seemed threatening, so Goodwin stayed close to the back of the procession where he was ignored. Finally they reached the ocean. Large waves, the biggest Goodwin had seen in Bali, crashed upon the shore. Heat lightening flashed in the sky, and lizards scurried up trees. Goodwin found a small crevice in the coral by the ocean and sat in it. He shivered as he watched the people approach the shore. Confusion strained his thoughts. He heard himself asking: what happened, what did I do? His whole concept of life, the world, and existence was shattered and he felt like nothing was real.

Ian once again plummeted down next to him, just like that night at Pagoda beach. Ian yelped realizing that it was coral that his butt just absorbed. Goodwin laughed, but his laughter soon turned to tears. Ian put his arm around him, and rubbed his shoulders caringly. He spoke to Goodwin about the ceremony, about the offering being made to the ocean. Goodwin forgot his worries and became relaxed by Ian’s voice. Sensing this, Ian went on about this great act of worship in detail.

“I want to go home Ian.” Goodwin said after a while.

“Oh, so now you are ready to go home, are ya?” Ian replied.

“Yes.” Said Goodwin.

They arrived in San Diego on a hazy and muggy day. Goodwin’s dad was at the airport waiting, and Goodwin watched his reflection in his Dad’s Rayban’s as he came in for a hug. His Dad rubbed his already messy hair and then grabbed his shoulders with genuine laugh and a “hey hey.”

“Why are you in such a good mood?” Goodwin asked his father.

“Its just good to see my son, I missed you Goodwin.” His dad replied

Goodwin took a suspicious step back looking at his father, then smirked.

“I missed you, too, Dad.”

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