Many thanks go to a dear friend who shared his humorous high school incident, and appreciation also goes to a another dear friend who had trouble getting through traffic and ended up giving birth in an elevator.  These and other  experiences contributed to the writing of this story.
 
    By Treeheart  
The bald, gnome like old man filled his pot from Mirrormere Lake.  He did not glance at his glorified reflection shining from the enchanted waters.  He was aware of the handsome, pure image that was revealed.  Many people, even most, had images that shone forth thusly.  For most are unaware of the goodness in their hearts, and have at some time a need to have this manifested to them.  But not so with the wizened old man.  For he had lived by the enchanted waters for many years, and simply, Knew.
 
"Old man, can you tell us where the Old Apple Orchard is? "  A girl’s voice reached the old man, raucous and demanding.
 
"We are SO hungry!  This is supposed to be a magic forest, but we can't  find any of the places that are supposed to be around here.  Some magic Forest!"  A lad's  complaining tirade was added to the disturbance.
 
The old man turned, and viewed the children.  He smiled, and his toothless gums appeared.  Children!  They looked so-so diminutive and appealing!  He wished to help them.  He would help them.  He opened his mouth, and silent breath came out.  He had almost forgotten.  He could no longer speak.  He motioned to the West, along the path of the Lethe River.
 
"Hey!" the boy shouted.  The ugly old coot can't even talk.  We're wasting our time here.  Everything in this place is weird."  The boy picked up a few pebbles from the shore and tossed them at the old man who was different.  "Come on, Jess!"  Jess threw a larger rock at the man, but since she couldn't really throw that hard, it didn't hurt that much when it grazed his arm.  The old man just smiled his toothless grin, and managed to make a few strange sounding noises, pointing all the while.
 
The old man sighed as he watched the children running off.  It had been so long since he had seen outworlders.  He had thought they might have been part of the task to which he had been called.
 
He bent down to the waters, filling the pot to the brim.  It was then that he heard the Words again.  He heard them deep in his heart.  No one would ever be able to believe that he heard them truly, or even care that he did, but he heard them.  They were from All That Is Love:  "One is coming."   The one.  The person for whom his task would be completed would come soon.   The old man had heard those same words several times recently.  He knew that one would come soon.  The old man could help that one, fulfilling his call.
   
"Forget it!"  Vince walked off from the rude Techni Shack clerk.  "Jerk!" He almost voiced that last epithet out loud, but not quite.  Still, Vince was pretty sure the clerk got the message.  Vince determined to consign the clerk to his mental "Jerk File".  Served him right!  All Vince had done was to ask some questions about how to work the stupid electronic carry around  address holder he wanted to get for Mom's  birthday.  The guy had sighed and glanced at three other customers who looked like they had more money than Vince.  Then, instead of answering his question, the clerk had the nerve to ask him what his address was.  He had already decided he would pretty much stop going to the Techni Shack.  The place was really boring anyway, since they had closed out selling all the computer games.
 
Vince had a couple of more stops to make before getting home to pack for his camping trip.  He mentally reviewed the path he would take to travel efficiently and avoid unnecessary driving.  First,  he would go to the library, to see if he could find a map that would show that part of the Westing Forest he hadn't visited.  Next, on to the Safegood Market for a couple of water bottles.  Then,  Vince would visit his Mom, and give her the present he had chosen for her.  He hoped his mom would like the little device, and that it would help her get a bit more organized.
 
Vince knew the library was just ahead, he had visited it many times.  But the entrance was easy to miss, and Vince was trying to concentrate.   Wow!  That idiot just crossed his lane when he hadn't expected it!  Vince was trying to get to the library, and this other guy was driving about twice as fast as he should have been and streaking right through Vince’s lane!  Just what he needed!  To get into an accident and die, just before he gave Mom her present.  His mom would think he was still mad at her when he died!  Great.  "Jerk!"  Vince sent the driver into that nether file he assumed everyone else had.  All the idiot drivers he had ever come across were safely placed in that file.  Believe it, there were a lot of them in there.  This was no safe state.
 
In the library, Vince was having no luck.  He hated trying to find maps and doing research.  Maybe the librarian would help.  There were a couple of Russian women standing there trying to talk to her.  He smiled at the women's baggy sweaters and worn serviceable shoes.  They were kind of cute!  You  can always tell recognize the Russian immigrants!  But it looked like they would take all day, with the pointing and gesturing. He was a lot taller than they were, so he just leaned over them a second, and started to speak.  The librarian silenced him with the single gesture of an upraised finger, and turned her attention back to the Russian ladies.  Figures.  "Jerk!"  Vince’s negative mental processes had begun again.  He always felt a little more comfortable, a little more in control if he could put a label on a person he did not quite understand or agree with.   This particular librarian, with her snooty ways had gotten on his nerves before.
 
Women!  Most of them he had found to be pretty snooty.  Yet, still he longed to protect them, to help them, to be close to them.  Sometimes he ached to touch and hold a woman.  He glanced at the colorful cover of a new romance novel displayed on a shelf.  An animated, smiling long-haired image  of a Victorian lady  seemed to taunt him.  Most people had a soul mate somewhere they could talk to and wile away the loneliness with, but not Vince.  He was pretty sure he was different than most people.  It seemed like he never had any luck.  He knew in his most secret heart, he really didn't deserve to have luck.
 
No luck with finding maps either.  Well, he'd just have to make do.  He had done it before.
 
He got the bottles from  Safegood’s, but he had to pay a lot for just water!  He didn't mind too much, though, he was a pretty tolerant guy.
 
Vince knocked on the worn brown door.  It took a while, but finally his mom answered.  "Vince!"  She hugged him, and smiled.  Vince’s heart warmed.  He should have known Mom would have forgotten about the argument.  It had been two or three weeks since he had seen her.  "Come in and have some breakfast!"  Good old Mom!
 
"No, Mom, I've got to get going.  I just stopped by to give you this."  He handed her the little sack.
 
"Hey, it’s one of those things!  I’ve been wanting one like this!  Thanks, honey!"
 
Mrs. Roberts fumbled with the little keyboard for a minute, then set the present down on the small lamp table.  She looked at him and sighed.  "Oh, I almost forgot to tell you, son.  Your friend from college called.  He wants you to return that CD he loaned you. He hasn’t been able to reach you at your apartment."
 
Sometimes his mom could be such a jerk.  Always trying to dun him just when he was starting to feel close to her.  If she wasn’t telling him about some phone message he hadn’t answered, she was reminding him to get a haircut or something.
 
I’ve got to go, Mom.  I’ll be camping out this weekend."
 
Mrs. Roberts patted him, and Vince left, trying not to show his annoyance.  Finally, he would get to pack for that trip!
   
The old man threw some herbs into the water boiling in the pot he had placed over the fire. One day, Treeheart had shown him how to find the herbs that would give him some relief from the arthritis that had been plaguing him a bit.  He breathed the aroma released by the steaming herbs and suddenly heard those Words again: "One is coming."  He breathed in the mild fumes again.  "One is coming.  He whom you are to help is coming."
 
"Let it be so, let it be so," thought the elderly hermit.  He poured some of the tea into his favorite old mug and straightened up, then headed in the direction of his home.
 
He enjoyed sitting in his cave.  Several blanket covered rocks were in the small room, and they seemed to conform to his body shape when he relaxed, which he did now, nursing his tea.  The room, though seeming dark after being outside, was actually fairly well lit, the wall being encrusted with diamonds and jewels that seemed to glow with an interior light of their own.  The man had not really questioned this,  for he had long ago accepted the magical effects of this realm as being fairly normal occurrences.  "Beyond...beyond... and beyond."  The hermit’s own words spoke to him from the cave walls where he had inscribed them.  His eye caught the words, "I give this friend to the stars."  The little man smiled.  Many times he had given a friend over to the stars, to the Cloud of Unknowing.  His own heartfelt learnings were gleaming back to him from the walls.  At one time, he had tried to write inspiring words about diligence, self-sacrifice, and perseverance on the walls.  Those messages had had so much meaning for him in the life he had left before.  Yet he could not aspire to them, though he had longed to, many of the ideas coming from great people he so intensely admired.  Even so, the words he had wished to set there had not been words he had been able to live.  Perhaps he was not ready for them, old as he was.  So they had not stayed stuck there on the walls of his home, but had gradually disappeared.  Only the living words from his soul experience had stayed.  And he could rarely share them.  So few came to his cave, and he could not speak.
 
Long ago that he had stumbled into The Magic Forest.  There he found it in a state of siege.  He soon discovered that some wicked trolls were trying to take control of the realm.  Looking for magic powers, he supposed. He managed to help the Dryad, Treeheart, put the fellows to rout.  In return, Treeheart had blessed him and gave him a home in the Forest.  Then Treeheart sent him to Fairy Rosamunda, who encouraged the hero to make a wish at her Well.  He had chosen well.  He had wished for PEACE.   Since that time he had experienced a depth of peace unknown by most .  But he had also lost the use of his voice.  Still,  It was well worth the loss.
   
The Peaceful Hermit,  as the old man was known, heard some footsteps near his cave, and a thumping sound, as if a heavy pack were falling to the ground.  Perhaps the children were back, needing help.  He went out to investigate.
 
A rather ordinary looking young man was sitting on a rock, his pack beside him.  He looked hot and somewhat tired.  Startled, the lad looked up quickly, and spoke.  "Hey!  I didn’t expect to see anyone around here!  Have you got a camp near here?"
 
The hermit just smiled and shrugged his shoulders.
 
"Well, I’m trying to find Poetry Falls.  Can you help me?"
 
The Peaceful Hermit pointed West.
 
"About how far are the Falls?"
 
The hermit just smiled.
 
The young man sighed, and getting up, slung his pack over his shoulder.  He remembered that when he was a kid, people would generally help each other out in the woods.  But now, most people distrusted strangers, and pretty much only thought of themselves.  Bunch of jerks!  He turned to go.  By now the old man was making some unusual noises.  He sounded a little like the Wookie in Star Wars!  Forget it!  And yet...he had a thought.
 
"Hey!  You can’t talk, can you?"
 
Again, the old man smiled.  He came over to the younger man, and gently tapped him on the shoulder.  He motioned him to follow.  The hermit led him to the well-hidden cave opening.
 
"Wow!  This is your place?"  This is great!"  The young man looked at the hermit as if for the first time.
 
"Hey, my name is Vince.  Sorry I didn’t understand that you can’t talk.  I wish you could tell me your name."
 
The old man pointed to a large, flat, circular  rock under some leaves near the cave entrance.  The word "Peace" was inscribed upon it.
 
"Peace?  Your name is Peace?  That’s a funny name.  Though around here, in this place, I could almost believe it."
 
The Peaceful Hermit smiled and nodded at the sound of the word.
 
"OK.  I guess I’ll call you ‘Peace’.  And this is where you live?  I wouldn’t mind living in a place like this.  A cave by a lake.  How lucky can you get?"
 
The hermit motioned Vince to sit down and wait.  He disappeared inside his home.  A minute later, he returned with a plate, a fork, and half of a large apple pie.  He handed it to Vince.
 
"Whew!"   Vince took a whiff of the plump, delicious looking pie.  Still warm!  He couldn’t resist!
 
"Thanks, Peace!  I sure didn’t expect anything like THIS!"
 
Vince and the hermit settled down to a relaxed camaraderie.  Eventually, through questions from Vince, and gestures from the mute one, they were able to communicate fairly well.  At Peace’s invitation, Vince set up his tent near the cave, and they spent a few days together.  They roamed The Magic Forest, and found Poetry Falls.  There Vince found a magic book, and by reading the poetry in it, he experienced the dreams and visions of  another spirit, another soul.  It rested him to know that another had felt such things as he had felt.  They had a few little adventures, particularly one at The Haunted Tree that left Vince feeling a bit weary.   But the two men, so very different, were becoming fast friends.  By night, they sat outside the cave and looked at the stars and the lake.
 
It was during this time that Vince began to really talk to the hermit, unburdening his soul, telling him of his loneliness and disappointments.  Vince admitted to his companion that he was disgusted with the attitudes of most people he met.  In particular, women seemed to gall him a lot.  Yet he wanted to get married and raise a family.  Probably, it would never happen.  Everybody seemed to have some sort of a soul-mate.  But not Vince.  He was different.
 
"Like I said, most women are a bunch of jerks."
 
When Peace heard the word, "jerks",  he smiled, and motioned Vince to come inside his cave.  Vince did not have to be asked twice, for he had been curious for some time about the interior of his friend’s home. He followed the old man into the cave.
 
"Whoa!"  The inside of the cave at night had an eerie, ancient look about it.  The walls seemed to be illumined by glowing lights of some sort, and these reflected back at each other from across walls.  There was a lot of carving and lines all over the walls, but the marks seemed to be placed in an  especially pleasing way, so that the effect was not disturbingly chaotic.  Vince walking over to a wall, which seemed to go back forever into the rocky little hills surrounding the lake.  The walls looked a little like they were reflecting shadows of water, it was a little hard to describe.  The marks themselves...hey!  Now that he could see them more closely, Vince realized that the marks were writings of a sort!   Looked like Peace might not be able to talk, yet he had something to say.  Vince read a few of the words:  "There is nothing left to trust but All That Is Love."  Vince knew better than that.  "You don’t trust anyone," he thought.  He had trusted Marta.  Well, sort of.  And she had let him down.  Among others.
 
Funny noises were coming from Peace.  He wanted Vince to sit down.  Vince made his way to a bumpy piece of furniture covered with a dark green wool blanket.  Looking under the blanket, Vince could see that the "furniture" was actually some sort of rock formation.   This was surprisingly comfortable.  Peace covered him with another blanket, and brought him a cup of funny-smelling tea.  Might as well drink it.  Peace usually knew what he was doing.
 
The hermit smiled at him, and went over to a back wall, and began writing on it with a marker of some sort.  "So that’s how he does it," Vince mused, getting pretty sleepy.  He yawned.  It WAS rather comfortable in here.  He wasn’t sure how much time had passed, when he felt the old man’s hands gently shaking him awake.  In his sleepy state, Vince was about to call Peace a jerk and tell him to leave him alone, when the hermit pointed to the flickering wall near the rock formation on which he rested.  The wall then lighted up with a strange blue color, and a scene began forming upon it.  Hey!  That was Vince’s old high school!  It was in the library, and there was Vince’s buddy, Lou!  Wow!  He hadn’t thought about Lou in a long time!  Wait!  There was Vince himself!  The two young men in the scene were hysterically laughing!  Suddenly they straightened up, looked serious, and sat down to a table strewn with books.  A couple of girls came in.  They asked Vince and Lou  some questions which the boys answered seriously and carefully.  Then the girls left.  As soon as the girls were out of earshot, the two friends looked at each other and said, "Jerks!" and doubled over in laughter!   Now Vince remembered that day! Lou and he had gotten permission to do some research on an assignment in the library.  Ensconced on his rock, watching the scene, a smile started to tug at the corners of Vince’s  mouth.  Several people, including a couple of teachers, came into the library, and each time the two boys had behaved quietly and respectfully toward them.  Every time someone left, Vince and Lou called him a jerk behind his back!  For some reason it was hilariously funny.  Lou and Vince felt close, laughing at everyone, and being the only ones in the world who weren’t jerks!
 
As the scene faded, Vince glanced at Peace.  He was laughing behind his hands.  Apparently, he thought it was pretty funny too.  In fact, Peace smiled at him, got a wicked look in his eye,  jerked his thumb toward the world outside the cave, and said, "ennk!"  Vince made the same gesture with his thumb, and said, "Jerks!"  and they both burst out laughing,  the laughter echoing down through the cave.
 
Suddenly, Vince did a double-take, the inevitable question having come to mind.  "Hey, how’d you...?   Peace held up his hand, and motioned Vince to drink some more tea.  Vince was getting rather fond of this tea, so drink away he did.  Vince rubbed his neck, leaned back and stared at the ceiling.  He rubbed his eyes, not quite believing them.  There on the strangely lighted ceiling, Vince saw the inside of that Techni-Shack he had visited the day before.  The clerk was putting some items on the shelves.   A voice came from the back room.
 
"Idiot!  Be careful with that stuff, will ya!  You are the slowest workin’ guy I’ve ever had in here.  Why they sent you to ME to train, I’ll never understand!"
 
Obviously, it was the clerk’s boss.  Then there sounded another voice:
 
 "Just one more hour, don’t get mad at him.  You can make it one more hour."
 
Vince realized he was hearing the thoughts of the clerk being spoken aloud.  How in the world?
 
"My feet are killing me.  If I can’t keep this job, my dad’s gonna throw me out."
 
More thoughts from the clerk.  Then Vince felt an incredible heaviness come over him.  He realized  that he was not only hearing the thoughts of the clerk, but he was feeling his emotions!  And this was a depression made up of guilt, a feeling that he could never do anything right.  Part of the depression the clerk was feeling was a kind of indescribable despair.  Somehow, Vince knew that the clerk had been carrying around this despair for many, many years.   Then Vince saw himself come in the door.  Several people were making a beeline for the counter at the same time that Vince was.  A man was watching from the back of the store, most likely the boss.  Vince could see that the clerk was self-consciously  trying to help this other Vince, and all of the customers at once.  "Forget it!" Vince heard the other Vince in the scene say.  Then that Vince stomped out of the store with his package.
 
The image of the store faded away.  Vince looked at Peace and cleared his throat.  He was feeling pretty sheepish about the way he had reacted to the discouraged, harried clerk.  Peace came over, patted him on the shoulder, and pointed to a wall, where Vince read the words:  "There is no way I can possibly know everything there is to know about this situation".
 
Upon that wall the light shimmered, and coalesced into a traffic scene.  Somewhat alerted by now, Vince had a feeling he knew what was coming.  Sure enough,  Here came the car streaking across his lane in traffic, just as Vince had experienced before.  Only this time there was a  difference.  "Thum-thud, thum-thud," Vince heard.  The beating of the rude driver’s heart!  This guy had to get someplace in a hurry!  With a sure knowledge, Vince realized this man was taking his pregnant wife to the hospital! People had not been letting him through in traffic!  Later on, his baby would be born in the elevator of a hospital, en route to the labor room!
 
"Well, most people who are rude in traffic have no good reason," Vince told Peace, who was experiencing the story right along with Vince.  The Hermit smiled, and shrugged his shoulders in a typical gesture.
 
Peace brought Vince some more tea then, but the young man motioned him away.  He was starting to get a "floaty" feeling.   Two semi-transparent ladies in baggy sweaters and asymmetrically pinned up hair seemed to be gliding past his or him.  He followed them with his eyes.  The cave became a room crowded with phantoms.  The walls became boards,  and the letters on the walls became Cyrillic!  The ladies were being shoved about as they stood in a line.  These were his library ladies! They had come from this place, from Russia! The scene changed to the library experience.  Vince felt his heart melt in deepest compassion as his spirit blended with the librarian’s concern.  He was glad that he had not interrupted when the librarian had lifted her finger to him in warning.  But he now saw the librarian in a somewhat different light.
 
Vince spent a wondrous night in the cave, re-thinking, re-learning.  His heart felt heavy, his mind was confused.  He had thought he had known something.  Now he realized  he knew nothing.  That night he became one in heart and mind with many he had previously was aware of in the dimmest way.  Each being was on a different path that led to his path.  Each being was strangely advanced and woefully undeveloped.  Each was to be honored.
 
The following day, the two companions undertook a hike around the lake, and camped under the stars.  Silently, tramping beside his friend, Vince remembered some words he had read on the wall of the cave, and practiced letting the heaviness and the fears go.  He learned to open his heart to the well of love and joy within.  Sometimes his thoughts would enter that negative spiral they had occupied so often, but the memories of that night in the cave would come swimming back, jeweled with truth and awareness.
 
The activities continued by day and night.  Vince ate apples from the orchard, and they shared bread, and tea.  When the restless feelings overcame him, Vince knew that it was probably time to go.  He glanced at Peace.  What did he know about him?  Had he ever had a job, a family?  Had he ever known the love of a woman?  At last he summoned the courage to ask the old man these questions.  The old man just looked at him.
 
Getting the strange sensation that something was expected of him, Vince queried, "What? Me?   All right, I admit, I don’t get along with women all that well."
 
Once again, Peace invited Vince inside his cave. The word "Uh-oh," ran through Vince’s mind.  "I’m IN for it!"
 
So Vince went over and sat on the accustomed blanket-covered rock.  Smiling, he looked around for strange lights and phantoms to appear.   Peace grinned, his eyes twinkled, and he shrugged his shoulders.  Then he went to a wall, and wrote a couple of words on it.  Vince got up and peered at the words.  Some were  not words!  They were numbers!  These appeared to be dates!  Under the dates was inscribed a heart.  Within the heart was written, "Mrs. Vincent Roberts".
 
"Peace!  I see!  This is the date on which I will meet  my future wife!  Wait!"  Vince looked at the other number.    "Hey!  This seems to be ALSO  the date on which I will meet my future wife!  You mean I get a choice? I get to pick one of these two dates?"
 
Peace smiled toothlessly, and nodded.
 
"Well, this date is more than three years later than the other one," Vince mused.  "I don’t want to wait that long."
 
The hermit gestured again toward the dates.
 
Vince’s thoughts were in a whirl.  He was tired of waiting for everything in life.  How could he be sure it would EVER happen?  Probably not, with his luck.  He thought of a question.  "Hey, Peace, just answer me this, before I choose.  IS there such a thing as having a One True Love?  You know, like in the stories and movies?"  Peace shrugged again, and Vince mused, "I’ll probably NEVER figure THAT one out."   OK, which date should he choose?  Vince knew he didn’t want to wait years and years to meet his future wife.  On the other hand, he now realized he had some work to do in his life.  He had learned a lot here.  He knew himself well enough to understand that some negative, judgmental, habitual grooves had been carved into his mind and soul.  He could be free of them, but he needed practice, effort, and thoughtful living to fully bring about this new awareness of truth.  That could take some time, and he was pretty sure he would be making some mistakes.  Vince knew one thing for sure.  He did not want to consign his own future wife to the "jerk file" at the first sign of trouble.  He also wanted to be around to raise his children, if he had any.  His hand reached out and smoothed over the second, later date.  That was it.  He had made his decision.  He would choose the later date.
 
Vince looked at Peace.  The Hermit’s eyes twinkled, and he made a funny, chortling sound.  Peace grabbed the younger man by the arm, and began swinging him around, jumping up and down, and dancing a little jig.  The walls of the cave began to sparkle and shine.  Points by point, they were lighting up like a planetarium!  The lights began to wheel over the ceiling and walls like stars.  Vince threw back his head and laughed!  He could wait!  He could wait!  It was nothing to wait!  Never had he experienced such peace.  It filled him, and ran through him, and overflowed from him!  And Peace felt it too!  Peace felt it too.
 
The  morning had come.  Fogged rolled in off the lake and announced a day of change.  Vince shouldered his pack, with a determined heart,  and sense of honor toward the mysteries of life.  Not knowing, he now knew. It was time to go home.
 

 
The old, balding toothless hermit swept out the cave, where he dwelt alone.  He picked up a pair of sunglasses that had been left there by a recent visitor.  Putting on the shades, he took a walk out to Mirrormere Lake, and glanced at his reflection.  Pretty hard to see, but he could tell the glasses gave him a rakish look. He grinned, and a fish jumped up and spoiled the reflection.  Suddenly, Hermit cocked his head.  Did he hear the Words?  Was another one coming?  "Let it be so," he considered, "Let it be so."
          STORY ISLAND MAP