Secret Door

“There is a secret door in all of us.
Within reach.
But because it is a secret, a secret buried within,
few find the lustrous knob or the lustrous frame.
Most of us have held the lustrous knob
without being aware of it.
Most of us have stroked the lustrous frame
without even recognizing its ‘frameness’.
For some, the hallway is covered
in thick plumes of smoke.
For some, the hallway is a winding labyrinth of
doorless confusion.
Few know the truth:
You have to construct the secret door from
the dust of vulnerability.
The secret door must be manifested through
The will of the hidden, crying spirit.”- The Great Reznetti

Beelzerishi, for as long as he could possibly remember, was searching for a legendary man by the name of Reznetti. Ever since he first heard about the sphinx-like Reznetti around the fire one evening, he has constantly said to himself, “I will find this man.” The mantra stuck with him. For many years it never left the cocoon of his precocious mind. The mantra, or at least the intention behind the mantra, forced him to look under beds, in haunted houses, in abandoned churches, in milk cartons, down the throats of dead animals, and even down a well one time. When Beelzerishi got stuck in the well as a result of his avid search for the legend, his mother got worried and sent out a massive search party. The throng searched for days with dogs, flashlights, and desperate cries. When they finally found the lost boy, Beelzerishi, he was shivering and sobbing at the bottom of the well. He was softly and disconsolately saying, “Where is Reznetti? Where is the Great Reznetti?”

As a result of instigating such a massive search, Beelzerishi’s father spanked him everyday at dawn for three weeks. “This will teach you for getting lost in your imagination, child,” said his stern father after each spanking. “Let this hand teach you more than your wandering mind.” After each spanking, his mother would commiserate with her only child by making him his favorite breakfast and singing him his favorite song. She would then place her hands on his shoulders and kiss him on both cheeks. Silently and by the grace of the feminine touch, she was transmitting to him her love and support for his dream of finding the Great Reznetti. Her touch conveyed more meaning than all the superfluous words in the universe.

When Beelzerishi’s mother died of cancer when he was fourteen, he ran away from his homestead and never looked back. Years later, while traveling to a city of unknown proportions, Beelzerishi learned his father died of a heart attack. He saw it all in a dream one night under heavy clouds and blinking stars. He saw his father’s remorseless heart explode inside his angry chest. It was a seismic explosion. He saw him die alone in a lonely house filled with bottles, litter and disgust. When he woke up from the poignant and portentous dream, he felt saddened by the loss, but then the mantra took over like it always did. The mantra was more important than anything. It submissively pulled him along like a puppet attached to a string, or a dog on a leash, or a man by his ideals.

Because his feet ached and longed for rest, Beelzerishi curbed his peripatetic activities for some time and stayed in the city of unknown proportions. He rested at a hotel in the northern sector of the city. Here he fell in love with a woman named Fate. Or was it Fate who fell in love with him? Either way, they grew accustomed to having one another around. During the day they both did odd jobs around the city to keep financially afloat, and at night they participated in a sometimes horizontal and sometimes vertical entangled flesh dance. The days went on like this for a partly digested chunk of time. They both seemed complacent in their courtship. They both liked the dance and the anticipation of the dance. Nothing seemed like it could go wrong.

One day, a day like every other, Beelzerishi lost his job as a letter carrier due to cutbacks within the company. When he went back to the hotel to report the news to Fate, he couldn’t find her anywhere. All her things were gone, and all that lingered was her scent. On a wrinkled pillow, Beelzerishi found a note. It read:

“Sweetness itself…I left you to go back to my husband. I should have told you. Because I couldn’t have told you in person, I left this plaintive message for you, my secret lover. Please don’t try to follow me. I will be okay. I will never forget you.”

The note left an indelible impression on Beelzerishi. He cried for many hours, but soon the tears dried and he thought only about going back to the road. He knew he had to go back to the road and its ever-expanding teaching, the mantra, and the quest for Reznetti. He knew he had to go back to the place in his heart that spurred on the journey in the first place. Instinctively, he knew he was on this planet to locate the impossible. Beelzerishi was on this planet to track down the mythical man he first learned about from his father. (Or did the fire first tell him? He couldn’t remember.)

After traveling for days without rest, Beelzerishi literally collapsed by the side of the road. He fell into a dream state deeper than the Marianas Trench. In the dream state, he was married to a woman named Etaf. She was living in a strange garden. She liked to tell him about the begonias and petunias while they made love under sentient trees. He loved her for a reason he couldn’t detect in himself. And then…one moment she was there, and the next moment she wasn’t. She took the garden with her too. Nothing was left in the dream but a book. The book irradiated intelligence just like the trees and Etaf’s lips. When Beelzerishi opened the book, he realized he was holding an unpublished book made by the Great Reznetti. He felt extremely joyous for a moment, and then he realized the book was filled with empty pages. Every single one was filled with emptiness. But before he could lament over the emptiness of the stark pages, the book transformed into something else. It transformed into his mother’s touch. Not hands. Touch. There was no physical object in sight. Only the sensation of Mom. The everlasting touch of her spirit was there in the blackest part of his dream.

Beelzerishi eventually awoke from the deepest dream he had ever had. He was covered from head-to-toe in tears. He didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know whether he should continue his quest or not. For the disheartened Beelzerishi, the empty book penned by Reznetti symbolized an inevitably futile search. On the other hand, his mother’s touch symbolized her faith in him. She had always wanted him to follow the mantra locked away in his soul, his fantasies, and his quest. He was torn. He knew he had to go on, but he didn’t know where he was going. He knew he had to still embark on his quest, but he didn’t know what the quest was anymore. He knew, and yet he didn’t know. Confusion clouded his heart.

For days and days, Beelzerishi slowly wandered down the ever-expanding road. In the distance, the horizon waited for his arrival, an arrival that would never come.

“The secret door is what you should love.
The secret door is what you should plant in your heart.
The secret door blocks the way to the room of everlasting poems.
Know my words to be self-evident.
Without the secret door, meaning in life is impossible to find.
Without the secret door, life becomes a closed system.
There is a secret door within all of us.
Within reach.
Keep constructing it, or at least die trying.”- The Great Reznetti

Beelzerishi eventually caught sight of three or so people camped out near the road. It was around midnight. He could see their fire swaying this way and that like an uncontrollable goddess or a possessed swing-set. Something good was cooking on a makeshift grill, that’s for sure. Smelled like bacon and corn, or some mixture of the two.

Like a stealth shadow or wary owl, he approached with caution. He didn’t want to scare the road-dwellers. When Beelzerishi accidently broke a branch on the ground, one of the men hollered out, “Who’s there?” Beelzerishi introduced himself and then stepped into an area near the camp illuminated by the swaying fire. Three men looked Beelzerishi up and down and then asked, “What are you doing out here?” Beelzerishi answered, “Lost as lost can be. Do you fellows have room for one more around the noble fire?” The three men did. “We do,” said a man with a swarthy face. “Any traveler of the naked road is a friend of ours.” An exhausted and worn-out Beelzerishi sat down near the fire. His bones were glad he had found a resting place about as temporary as a blink in the grand scheme of things.

The men chatted about the travails and trying times they faced on the unruly road that moved out in all directions like a circulatory system or intricate maze. Beelzerishi enjoyed the food, the dance of the fire, the cadence of the men’s voices, and their obscure tents made from exotic furs, buttons, random scraps, some colorful threads, and even some bones. They mockingly laughed at all the poor people ensnared by domestication. “Foolish people,” said a man with few teeth, few hairs on his head, and few fingers on his hands. “They get locked up in their houses and they forget about the great world out here under the stars. I am glad I am a nomad. I couldn’t picture a better life.” When Beelzerishi finally talked by the fire that listened with flaming ears, all the men leaned forward and dedicated themselves to his words. He told them about his dead mother and father, his love affair in the city of unknown proportions, and then, finally, about his life-long quest for the Great Reznetti. After explaining all of this to them, all the men curiously glanced at one another, remained silent for a moment, and then set their gazes upon the fire. The swarthy man spoke before the other men had a chance to.

“Your life has been filled with some tragedies, friend. It is not easy dealing with the passing away of loved ones, especially those who brought us into this topsy-turvy planet of oddities and profundities. It seems like you’ve been able to deal with these deaths like a true warrior, though. I commend you for that.”

The swarthy man cleared his throat and continued.

“You mentioned the Great Reznetti. You mentioned that you love the Great Reznetti. You mentioned you have been drawn to the Great Reznetti since you were very young. My friend, I now must assure you of one thing: the Great Reznetti is real. The Great Reznetti is as real as the road you see in front of you. We too believe in his existence. Even though we have never met the legend face-to-face, we still believe he is doing good things in this world. He is probably teaching people the way of the ancient seers. He is probably enlightening people with his magnificent presence. I say keep going on with your search. Keep walking this road to the end of the earth. Never stop trying to track down that which you love with all your heart.”

The other men tacitly agreed to their friend’s powerful words, and then looked towards Beelzerishi with light in their eyes. They wordlessly understood his quest, and the path he had chosen for himself. Many golden silences mingled there at that moment. The fire understood too. It was constructed to understand such silences.

“All people, in all the infinite spaces, in all
times that once were and all the times yet to come,
have a key for the door, the secret within.
I ask these gentle souls:
What pocket did you put it in?
What dresser did you put it on?
Where did you last leave it?
Where did you last touch it?
Their answers always humor me.”- The Great Reznetti

In the morning, Beelzerishi moved on without waking the sleeping nomads. He thought it would be best that way. All their stories were with him anyways. He made a special compartment within his being for their tales, fables, parables, allegories, and wisdom. The compartment was right next to the one that housed his sacred mantra.

Beelzerishi traveled for many more years. He moved over hills, waded through swamps, climbed over small mountains, traversed many paths, and triumphed over many obstinate obstacles. He met many wisdom-teachers who said exactly the same thing about his blessed search. He had met many one-night lovers who educated him in the complex and multifarious ways of sensual pleasure. He saw a scintillating fragment of Etaf and his mother in all of them. He met many lonely oracles in the thick and gloomy forests that spotted the vast lands like tufts of unruly hair. He even met odd animals that would follow him for a time and then leave unexpectedly in the middle of the night as he slept. He viewed all of these experiences as necessary and important.

Around his fiftieth year, Beelzerishi met a young boy who reminded him of the spry self he once was, the self he hadn’t seen in many decades. Beelzerishi was resting his bones on a bench when the boy suddenly came out of nowhere and joined him for a brief sojourn by the deciduous trees. The boy initiated the conversation:

“Where do you come from?”
“I come from many places boy. My home is the ever-expanding road. It’s also my teacher.”
“Have you been here before?”
“To the best of my recollection…no.”
“Do you know where you are?”
“No. Where am I?”
“You’re in the city of unknown proportions.”
“Impossible.”
“Why is that?”
“Because I’ve been traveling away from this place for many years.”
“Sometimes we come back to the places we used to love.”
“Yes, but how did I really get back here? I’ve been moving away from here for years.”
“You must have reached the end of the earth, and turned back without even knowing it.”
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
“How do you know so?”
“I know so. I’ve dreamed about this encounter for many years.”
“Are your dreams that reliable?”
“Aren’t yours?”
“Some have been. Some haven’t.”
“Only follow the ones that have been helpful.”
“I will.”
“Good luck.”
“You too.”

The boy then left the bench and followed the sound of some flittering birds all the way back to the house where he had been born. Beelzerishi watched him until he was but a little, ambulatory speck on the horizon that swallowed all the treasures of sight. When he turned his attention back to the bench, Beelzerishi noticed that the precocious boy had left a little book behind. Like an archeologist investigating a buried bone-relic, he carefully picked the curious book up, gazed at its cover, and only opened it when he knew no one was watching him. Disconcertingly, all the pages were blank. Every single one contained nothing.

The memory-ocean attempted to drown Beelzerishi in its waves of nostalgia. The deep dream came back to him and all the abstruse contents of it: the sacred garden, Etaf, Reznetti’s blank book, and the motherly touch. Finally, after many decades had come and gone, a significant portion of the deep dream had finally manifested in the city of unknown proportions. But what did it ultimately mean? Did it mean anything? Beelzerishi was perplexed.

Beelzerishi eventually decided to keep the book in his possession. He carried it with him to the hotel where he first met Fate, and he booked a room with all the scattered funds he had collected in his wide and varied travels. As soon as his entire body hit the mattress, Beelzerishi fell into that deep dream space for the second time in his life.

He was back in the garden. Every leaf was broadcasting pure luminosity to his dream eyes. All the plants spoke in the dialect of fragrant silence. Most importantly, everyone was there: his mother and father, all the ex-lovers, the three nomads, all the odd animals who had stalked him in the past, and even the little boy he had just met. Everyone seemed to be expecting his arrival. As he stood there in the astonishing lucidity of the dream-space, as he stood underneath the sentient trees, the little boy approached him with the blank book. He was smiling. The smile could have brought a thousand worlds into existence. And then he transmitted something telepathically to Beelzerishi.

“You have been all over the earth in search of me, Beelzerishi. You have even seen the end of the earth that never comes. But now your search can end. I am the Great Reznetti. I am the eternal child who comes back to this earth to work with all the noble spirits. Please take this book and write down what you’ve seen so others can benefit from it. It is all I ask. You must now find the secret door within yourself and unlock all the creative wonders that exist behind it. You don’t have to see me again, for those who truly see me as you see me now are forever linked to my everlasting presence. I bid you farewell.”

The boy stepped back and faded like the mist eventually does in the morning. Eventually all the denizens of the dream-space faded too. As though destiny had planned the dream a certain way, Beelzerishi’s mother was the last to disappear. Then he was with her again in the black space of loving touch. That eventually faded too. Beelzerishi was eventually left with nothing but the new morning. Tears of endless gratitude were streaming out of his eyes. He had been filled from head-to-toe with all the powers of some distant visionary realm. In his left hand, it felt like he was holding an invisible key. In his heart, it felt like he was holding a secret he could enter into at will.

Beelzerishi then quickly exited the hotel with the blank book and found a nice tree to sit under. He wrote well into the evening about all his travels and all the marvelous people he had met. He repeated this process for days on end. Eventually the book was filled with all the wonders he carried within. After he was done, Beelzerishi read about his entire life on the pages he had emblazoned with immaculate life. He thankfully discovered the Great Reznetti was there. His spirit was attached to every single word.

“Enter into the secret door.
Experience the profound stillness there.
Find your heart there.
Die there.
Be reborn there.
This is what I am here to teach.”- The Great Reznetti