Jeremy and the Covenant

Jeremy and the Covenant

By: RL Stevenson

Transformation is interstellar. It happens in the cosmos within and without. There is a distinct sound, a shifting that happens, and at that exact moment in time and space, the bell tolls and echoes your name. Throughout one’s journey in the pursuit of self, many seekers grapple with the reality of who they perceive they are and who they desire to become. One may embark upon an expedition to find greater meaning and purpose, searching for answers to a calling that could possibly bring about a heightened sense of joy and fulfilment, and a bolder sense of strength and courage. But is this goal always attainable? It is possible, but its path is often mapped with terrains full of hills and valleys, desert, and rocky places, and is sometimes inundated with virtually impassable landscapes. Nevertheless, through it all, there is a clearing, and the road becomes smooth and unobstructed; one’s Road of Sharon, so to speak. And, when the season is right, change ensues… because everything is purposed and re-purposed for change. We don’t always know when or understand why, but it is par for the course; it is inevitable. Such was the season of change for a young boy named Jeremy.

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It was mid-fall, and on a blustery, rainy afternoon was Jeremy; rain-soaked, cold, and lost. His compass was broken, and he had come too far to turn back. For the greater part of summer and well into fall, he had been tracking Otus; the barn owl whom his father named and had headlined in many of his narratives about the mystical, gold-feathered creature. The day was well spent, and he had grown hungry and tired after committing most of his afternoon plodding across the swollen terrain of a soggy, mud-laden path that supposedly led to an abandoned plot of farmland hidden behind a private road, just a few miles beyond the main access road he treaded.

His rubber boots had seemingly become heavier than two garden stones, and his pantlegs grew increasingly soiled and muddied up to the knee. That, he didn’t mind one bit, and though he toiled over thoughts of never finding the mysterious bird before winter, he did not let it spoil his appreciation for what he loved best. Jeremy simply cherished the outdoors. He basked in the glory of nature, and in any season or weather, no matter what its condition, his fascination with it always drew him into a personal meditation with its core elements. Perhaps, it would reveal Otus’ whereabouts; peradventure, nature would tell. So, he ceased his trek, stood still, and set his intentions on the bird. He shut his eyes tightly, listening attentively to the whistling of the wind, as the cool, moist air bit at his earlobes. He smiled, then looked up, mapping the cadence of each liquid pearl as it smacked and splattered about his face.

“Ahh,” Jeremy exhaled, as he lowered his head, contentedly welcoming the falling specks of rain as the sensation of the water sent a chill throughout his body. He didn’t care to wipe away the stinging moisture as it clung to the tip of his nose and rolled down across the fat of his upper lip, and then into his mouth. He opened his eyes, inhaled deeply, and released a burst of hot air from the center of his belly, observing how the warm cloud he’d just issued interacted with the elements. Clearing his throat, he softly petitioned the wind.

“Wind, wind, you are my friend. Show where the trail to Otus begins.” he whispered, as a forceful gust slammed against his back.

It knocked him slightly off-balance, causing him to trip and redirect him eastward.

“Ah, so this way? Thank you, thank you! Yes, yes, yes!!” he shouted, running clumsily towards a dilapidated wooden fence. He negotiated his way over it and slid sideways down a hill, over a small trench, and tip-toed across a moss-covered log.

"Okay…which direction now?"

Looking up again, cold spats holding fast to his cheeks, he stared deeply into the hazy aerial landscape and prepared to summon Otis. After removing his gloves, he clasped both hands together, connected the thumbs at the knuckles, pressed them against his lips, and blew.

“Whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo… whoo-whoo, whoo-whoo. Come, Otus, come.” he commanded, as he surveyed the sky for any apparent sighting of the bird.

Gazing across the plain, he scanned the landscape and the trees for any movement. Everything was naked and barren. The atmosphere was calm, though another gust of wind swept across the plain. Turning 180 degrees, Jeremy beckoned once more, projecting the call in the opposite direction. Suddenly, in the distance, slightly beyond the yellow haze-- where the sun peeked through the plume of grey-- he spotted something avian-like gliding diagonally, in descent.

“Could it be? Is that Otus?" he cried, excitedly.

Jeremy took off running— off-balance and slipping at first, stomping in the direction where the bird was landing— and headed towards it. His stride became smooth and steady, and his focus remained fixed on the bird. After a while, he felt as though he was floating on air. Before long, Jeremy was close enough to see that it was an owl, but whether it was Otus or not, he couldn’t tell. He hastily threw off his backpack, holding up its weight with the tip of his boot, knelt beside a tree and rustled through his contents to find his binoculars. Adjusting the lens, Jeremy zoomed in and noticed something fall from the creature’s claws, just as the bird took flight and circled around the roof of the barn. He could clearly see that it was Otus, with its signature gold tailfeathers and one horn-shaped ear.

“This… is… a-ma-zing! Otus, it’s really you!” he affirmed, muffling his words with his fist.

Jeremy slowly eased his way towards the foreign object (still mindful to keep his eye on Otus), snatched it up, and stuffed it into his backpack. But, before he could move another inch, now crouched beside an old tractor, the owl swooped down and rushed towards him, frantically flapping its wings and screeching.

Whoa, whoa, Otus, wait, I’m not here to hurt you!” he desperately pleaded, as he ran towards the entrance of the barn.

Jeremy maneuvered his way into the shed, holding his backpack on top of his head to shield it from Otus’ claws. A hanging bale hook snagged the bag and Jeremy stumbled sideways into a dry-rotted stack of hay and bumped his head on a rusty old pail. While still on the floor, dizzy and in a bit of agony and pain, he sat up on his knees investigating the old barn, frame-by-frame, looking for any sign of Otus. He finally saw the owl creep in through a hole in the corner of the roof and then quickly lost sight of it as it darted to the dark side of the barn. Jeremy’s heart was racing because it was too dark to see anything and Otus had already tried to attack him.

Moments later, the young boy stood up and slowly crept backward towards his bag, hoping to reclaim it and make his escape. The tip was too high, and he wasn’t tall enough to lift it above the point of the hook, so he yanked it and it ripped. Tote in hand and fumbling to get the door open, Jeremy realized that he was trapped. The heavy barn door had shut behind him and the latch was broken from the inside.

“How? No, no, no! Come on, please!” he cried, frantically trying to find a way out.

“Deep breaths, Jeremy. Breathe in, breathe out. Set your intentions on getting out and getting home safe and sound.” he said, trying to reassure himself.

Matters worsened as Otus began screeching and knocking things over in the barn. His shrieking grew louder and more piercing, and his behavior seemed overly erratic. The clamorous shrills were soon overtaken by heavy footsteps.

“HELLO, is anybody there? Hello?”

Jeremy fell into a sudden panic and began to hyperventilate. He staggered backward and stumbled over another bale of hay. With his bag in his lap, he wrapped his arms around his knees, whimpering and breathing heavily into his hand.

“Stand and face your fears. Stand and face your fears!” he chanted, rocking back & forth in horror.

The footsteps stopped, and a huge, dark figure stood over Jeremy.

“On your feet, trespasser!” he furiously demanded.

He kicked the haystack aside, lifted Jeremy up by the front collar of his raincoat, and pressed him against the wall. Jeremy swallowed hard and tried to speak but couldn’t. He managed to only stand, hunchbacked— defensively eyeing the man out of the corner of his eye.

“Who are you and what is your business here, trespasser?” the man yelled, sticking a golden rod into the boy's peck, further pinning him against the splintered wooden beam. Jeremy cleared his throat and mustered up the confidence to speak.

“My name is Jeremy, sir, and I’ve come to seek out Otus, the Mythical Owl, Teller of Secrets.”

“Hmph! You have something in your pouch that belongs to me.” he warned.

He put his left hand out, gesturing hard for Jeremy to surrender it to him.

“I’m sorry, sir. I don’t know what you mean. I…”

“THE BAG, BOY! Reach into it and hand me the scroll!” he interjected, as he poked the rod deeper into Jeremy’s chest.

He winced and grabbed the rod, trying to relieve the pressure of the man’s weight against him. Jeremy was gasping for air and could hardly concentrate.

“Please, sir, I don’t know what you’re talking about.” he squirmed.

“Nonsense, trespasser!”

The man snatched the backpack, ripped it open, and dumped all its contents onto the floor. With the edge of his rod, he sifted through Jeremy’s belongings and stomped the floor twice with his stick.

“There, the scroll, pick it up and put it in my hand!”

Jeremy was noticeably shaken, and every move he made towards the scroll signaled distress and confusion.

“But I don’t understand. Otus dropped it outside… and was this man watching me the whole time? How did he see? There are no windows. Why was he sitting here in the dark?” he pondered.

“I apologize, sir. Otus dropped it in the mud, and I just didn’t think it was something a bird could make use of.” Jeremy offered, as he extended his hand to surrender the scroll.

“Who is Otus? I am Em-Khety, and this scroll belongs to me!” he chastened, tightly closing his large fist around the relic.

“Now, again, trespasser, why have you come?” he demanded, as he backed Jeremy up against the door.

His eyes were a bright golden yellow and seemed to widen nearly the same size as Jeremy’s head as he moved closer to his face. Em-Khety shifted to one side and studied Jeremy with one eye. As he stood scanning the boy’s presence, Jeremy felt a sense of warmth and comfort as he gazed upon him. The man's pupils seemed to be encoded with chronicles of the ancient ones, secrets of the ancestors, answers to questions about the universe he had always wanted to know. At that instant, Jeremy began to see visions of the cosmos, but Em-Khety abruptly pulled away.

“I asked you a question, boy!”

“Oh, yes, again, I am here seeking Otus, the Mythical Owl, the Teller of Secrets. My father spoke of the many ancient tales our ancestors told about him. When young boys turn 13, they must seek out the journey of Heru.” Jeremy explained assuredly."

“If you do not recognize the one whom you’ve come to seek, then you must take your leave, never to return. I have revealed the name. You will be granted one last chance to answer correctly before sunset.”

Jeremy stalled for a moment, contemplating the recent turn of events. He turned his face away from Em-Khety, pounding his fist against his forehead.

“Think, Jeremy, think!” Okay, so I said that Otus dropped the scroll, but Em-Khety said, ‘Who is Otus? I am Em-Khety, and this scroll belongs to me!’ He also said that he revealed the name. So that means Otus is Em-Khety? But how can that be….?”

No sooner than he had asked himself the question, Jeremy recalled something his father said. “He is a mythical bird who walks among men.” The words echoed softly in Jeremy’s head.

“Wait a minute! He must be a shapeshifter…Otus is Em-Khety… in human form!”

Amazed and overcome, he could hardly believe what was happening. He turned back to answer, barely able to contain his level of excitement.

“Um, Em-Khety. I am here to seek Em-Khety.” Jeremy said exuberantly.

“You have spoken well. Now, come.”

Em-Khety released his hold on Jeremy and turned and walked towards a stool in the center of the barn, where a dim light uncovered his full form when he sat. The temperature in the room mysteriously turned warm and comfortable. His regalia was like royalty. He wore a bejeweled white turban that matched his waistband, and his mantle was made of golden owl feathers. He carried a long, golden sceptre, with a gold-plated owl’s head on top, that he used as a walking stick.

“You are wet and soiled from your journey.” he acknowledged, pointing to two neatly folded white items settled on the opposite end of his seat.

“You will wear these garments as you sit before me.”

Jeremy intuitively thought to remove his boots before he moved near Em-Khety to pick up the clothes (which consisted of a long-sleeved linen shirt and matching bottoms). He stepped behind a few stacked bales of hay, quickly changed, took several deep breaths, and then walked back towards the center of the barn. Before Jeremy reached where Em-Khety sat, he noticed the scroll had been opened and placed on the floor in front of him.

“So, your father has sent you? Many have come seeking the wisdom of the Great Ones, and most do not stay the course. Will your fate be the same as all the others?”

“I don’t know what the path is yet, but I know I’m different from everyone else.” Jeremy coyly answered.

He was 13, but unusually inquisitive about otherworldly, secret and magnificent wonders of the spirit realm. He was wise beyond his years and sometimes referred to himself as Uranus – because he knew he was different from any of the other kids his age. His classmates often teased him, and his teachers said he always had his head in the clouds. And unlike his peers, he wasn’t interested in chasing girls, fussing over his appearance, or any other of their usual pubescent carryings-on. As such, he didn’t care to have them as friends.

“Come, sit on your knees and place both hands on the scroll. Before we proceed, I will present you before the secret council and you must recite the covenant and agree to never reveal what you will see, and never utter the words that you will hear. Understand?”

Jeremy nodded in agreement.

“Speak! You must affirm aloud!” Em-Khety demanded as he leaned forward.

“Yes, I understand.”

“Now, repeat after me.”

Em-Khety recited the covenant as Jeremy repeated it in the affirmative. Some words were spoken in English, others were spoke in an African language. After Jeremy uttered the last word, Em-Khety noticed that the grooves on the scroll became illuminated. Only a true descendant of the Medjay could activate it.

“Ah, so you ARE one of the children of the Medjay.” he affirmed.

“The Medjay? Who are they?” Jeremy inched closer to Em-Khety, signaling his level of interest and desire to know more.

“If you do not know, then it means that your father has kept his secret well. He has shared with you in part. Nevertheless, the teacher has come; therefore, the student is ready. I will tell you, but you must not interrupt. An initiate must first learn mastery of his mind and his tongue. Keep your eyes closed and see as you are guided.”

He smote the floor several times with his rod while speaking in a foreign tongue. The place began to tremble, and a strong burst of air rushed across the room. Even though Jeremy was a bit frightened, he resisted the urge to open his eyes or ask questions. He could hear voices in the distance and could feel the rhythm of drummers pulsating throughout his body. The noise grew louder and now seemed to be there in the room with them.

“Your ancestors are here with us. Open your eye and behold them.”

Jeremy slowly placed his hand over his heart, and with his physical eyes still closed, he looked around the room. The environment had been transformed and looked like an ancient African village instead of a barn. He saw elders sitting and young boys marked with several colors of face paint. Masked musicians and dancers surrounded them, moving in a circular procession as they chanted and played. There were two main characters acting out a dual, and others were standing on a wooden platform, wearing animal costumes.

“They are performing a dramatic ritual called the ‘Divine Drama', also known as the 'Asarian Drama’. It is a remarkable story of esoteric metaphor, the common struggle within the self, a constant battle between good will and ill will. The ancients referred to it as Heru vs Setesh, or Ma’at vs. esfet. They are the two main characters portrayed in the ritual. Those in animal skins and masks represent the spirit forces of those animals, while those moving in the procession represent the movements of the planets.

As well, the five elements are key to this drama. Everything must work within the energies and laws of fire, water, air, earth, and space. When you were standing in the field, I heard you call to me through the wind, so you inherently possess the power to communicate and become one with nature. This is a critical skill and gift as a Medjay, and once you understand the movements of the planets, you will have the ability to invoke the attributes of divine animals held sacred by the masters.

In all of this, you must understand that a Medjay is a protector, skilled in the arts of science, alchemy, cosmology, and in the mystical animal fighting techniques akin to Heru and Setesh, in the Asarian Drama. These ways will train you to conquer esfet, the oppression and aggression within the self, and against others that wage it upon or against you. This knowledge will aid in building your confidence and assist you in fulfilling your true purpose.

Jeremy, you are here because you are destined to become a Keeper of the Way, and you must learn the principles of harmony and disharmony, to learn how to balance these two within yourself, and even in nature. Today is a rite of passage for you— for you to know who you truly are and to learn who your ancestors were.”

Em-Khety ceased speaking and the sound of the ancestors slowly faded. He spoke a secret passage in the same African tongue, while alternating from left-to-right, he tapped Jeremy on his shoulders with a coronation piece made of wood and animal feathers. He then took a red and white paste and smeared it onto Jeremy’s forehead, first vertically, then horizontally. Finally, he poured oil over his head, anointing and confirming him, and shook an instrument over him made of beads and precious stones.

“It is done. Jeremy, return home to your father and mother. You will experience several visitations from your spiritual teachers throughout your journey-- when the time is right. For now, be well upon your way.”

In an instant, the temperature in the room grew cold and moist again, and a strong wind swept throughout the place. The floor trembled and the sound of a shrieking owl was heard outside, moving far away from the barn and off into the distance. Jeremy sat motionless, reveling in the moment. And when he finally opened his eyes, he found himself lying on the floor near the door where he had first entered in and tripped over the hay. He was wearing his raincoat and boots instead of the ritualistic garments, and his backpack was still hanging overhead on the bale hook. His ankle was slightly sore, and he had a noticeable bump on the back of his head. He sat, looking around, dazed, and confused, shocked that Em-Khety was nowhere to be seen and that the barn was still dark and dilapidated.

He slowly rose to his feet, limped towards the door, stood halfway on the rusty pail, and lifted his bag off the hook. He called out to Em-Khety several times, but he did not answer.

“I just don’t understand, Jeremy said aloud.” as he massaged the bump on his head. “I guess it was all a dream.”

He felt truly disheartened. But, while checking the contents of his backpack, he found a gold feather just like those on Em-Khety’s mantle, exactly like the one his father wears in his turban. Feeling more confident and assured, Jeremy looked up and laughed out loud. A tear rolled down his cheek as he exited the barn and headed home. He looked back at the barn and saw Em-Khety sitting on the rooftop. He hooted several times and then flew away.