The
Pillar Ascetic
by Nathan Leslie
Truthfully, I
live on the pillar, some sixty-one feet above the
parched grasses and locusts below. The base and crown
are of equal diameter: twelve feet by twelve feet,
a perfect square resembling His perfection itself.
Six plus one equals seven—the holiest number.
Otherwise the pillar is ordinary stone. The platform
is also twelve by twelve, and capped with a simple
balustrade. I have not left the platform for thirty
years, but tomorrow I will. The town carpenters are
fashioning a ladder tall enough to allow me to climb
down from my perch. They offered one of artificial
means, but this will not do.
Besides my living conditions I am an
ordinary ascetic. I breathe the same air as you. I
must eat and sleep as you must. I must drink water,
and attend to bodily needs. Yet on another level beyond
my needs are wants, and I leave my wants purposefully
unfulfilled. This is the meaning of devoting your
life to Him. Devotion implies selflessness, and for
this I live in the clouds. One would be wrong to think
that I do not have desires. My purpose in descending
lies in squelching.
Practically, my brethren hoist food
and water to me, using a system of pulleys of my own
design. Each morning at five, I receive my day’s
bounty: one loaf of bread, one lump of cheese, three
pieces of fruit, and one wooden bucket of water. When
I can hear the deliberate trolling of the rope through
the pulley system, I stop my prayers and gather my
bucket from the prior day, drinking any remaining
bucket water. Then I collect the new food and water,
place it in the center of the platform and place the
used bucket in the container that will descend to
the base of the pillar. Any bodily needs fall down
to the base of the pillar. My kind brethren will clean
the bucket and the base of the pillar and fill it
with water tomorrow. I rarely see but the outline
of their bodies in the dawn.
This is not to say my life lacks stimulation.
When you live in the clouds, you can see the goings
on all about you. When I constructed the pillar there
was no town. Since then, my followers and their converts
have surrounded me in a circular town that rings my
pillar at a circumference of five miles. I did not
want them any closer. Many write letters to me and
I respond in turn. In some letters women offer intimacies.
These I drop to the ground as not deserving of this
holy spot.
Women have immense powers, and one must
resist those powers with a hearty will, and with His
assistance. The Holy Book shows women as they are.
I do not wish any being harm. However, of my followers
the women have been less obedient than the men. The
women have attempted to rend me from Him, and for
this I have harbored thoughts that I have eliminated.
After reading letters, I pray for hours,
only stopping to eat or sleep. I will not explain
or define my relationship to Him. It is everything.
I sat on a stump and prayed. It began
with this. The stump provided me a difference. I was
experiencing the world slightly differently than anyone
else. I had lived in monasteries, and lived in hermitages.
I was comfortable in silence, but there was something
about the stump. I was a popular mystic. Followers
sought my advice and wisdom. Perhaps the stump allowed
me to be a bit above them all. I began directing my
lessons from the stump, and meditated when they were
not there. I couldn’t leave.
Over time I needed a larger pillar.
I wanted to be higher above the others. I needed more
solitude and more distance. I began building by the
light of the moon, pillar stone by pillar stone, mortar
and rock. I built instead of sleeping.
I thought of the sheep, and my father
looming over them. My father would have me spook them
to the river, or lead them into the pen. He could
not afford a dog. I try to remember if I ever had
a fleshly experience with a girl. It is all so long
ago, that at times I cannot seem to remember. Yet
I think I am pure. I remember there was a cousin,
and there was an aunt. My aunt used to kiss my forehead,
and pat my head. This is not fleshly though according
to His word.
I have desires though. I cannot deny
this. These followers, these women who offer themselves.
I cannot say I have not been tempted by this. I have
thought of their flesh. My mind has strayed many times.
When this happens, I will deny myself a piece of fruit,
or only allow myself half the bucket of water. If
it happens twice in one day, I will fast. As a child
I used to fast often. My father said it was good for
your body, and would make me do it to. I grew to like
the feeling. I felt as if I was floating.
In their letters my followers tell me
other ascetics have built pillars—at least seven
or eight more. One even is a confirmed priest, and
a healer, and his followers come from thousands of
miles to climb the pillar and seek communion and healing.
Around each pillar, there must be a town. This development
has become overwhelming to me.
A woman named Zophar has written me
many offerings, all of which I have declined. She
has offered herself and her body to me. Often Zophar
has offered to climb the pillar and offer her gifts
to me. Each and every time I receive one of her letters,
I drop it from the pillar with the others, where it
floats to the ground. I never gave a thought to how
these letters might be received once read by another.
At the usual time one morning, I heard
the sound of the pulley. I squatted on the edge of
my platform awaiting my food and water, but when the
container reached the top, a woman was inside. Her
eyes were wild with envy and lust. She shrieked that
she had to speak with me, that she had to touch my
face. I let her touch my face, but then I asked her
to allow herself to be dropped back to the ground.
“My life is one of contemplation,”
I told her. “I cannot do what you ask.”
Tears dropped from her eyes, and a look
of frustration swept her face. However, she did go.
I assume that same woman was Zophar.
Now one of my followers has informed
me that Zophar is to be jailed for many years for
her scandalous behavior. I did not intend this. Jesus
would not allow this; he would not allow Magdalene
to be judged. How can I allow this? I cannot accept
her offers, yet I also cannot allow these injustices.
Tomorrow I must climb down from the pillar after these
years, and I must speak to the judge.
-- -- -- --
The ladder is true, well constructed
and useful. I walk into town with the carpenters,
since I know nothing of where the court might be or
where to find this judge. People hold their noses
as I walk by, though their eyes glow. I am ignorant
of much of the world. The judge is a stern man, tall
and thick bellied, bearded to his waist. He hears
my plea, and after hearing me offers to annul the
case as a result of my forgiving gesture. I am heartened.
Since I am in the town, I offer to see
this Zophar. I want to show her that I am just a man,
and perhaps the visual sight of me in the daylight
will repel her enough to alter her mindset. The carpenters
take me to the prison where she was living these past
months. She walks out of the building and falls to
her knees. She recalls my face. Over and over again
Zophar thanks me for saving her, offering anything
I might desire in return. She has not changed herself
or her outlook. I tell her what I desire is to see
her home.
“I have not seen a home for so
many years, it seems that I might forget what one
looks like.”
She takes my hand, and I let her. She
leads me down the street and into an alley, and through
that to a tall building, and up the stairs to her
home. She opens the door, and I can see it is empty.
She has a bucket of water and three apples on a simple
table, and a loaf of bread. Otherwise the room is
unadorned. The carpenters laugh, but I do not know
what to say. I nod to her and ask her to lead me back
to my pillar. I thank the carpenters.
She touches my face before I climb the
ladder. Her hands feel warm against my flesh, and
for a moment I lift my hand to return her gesture.
I stop myself, and climb the ladder, and when I reach
my pillar I can see her below, still watching me.
I push the ladder with enough force that it falls
to the ground.
There are so many prayers to offer to
Him. Some days I am overwhelmed with my sense of duty
and humbleness. I remember the selfishness of my youth,
and how I owned at least four shirts. My life has
been pared down to its essence, and I am in His service.
This is not the way for all, but my way.
These days I find desirous feelings
enter my being less. As a result I dream more. In
my dreams I float in the sky as the birds do. I float
over the towns and all the pillars, over the followers
and over foreign lands. Then I reach the sea, and
I float over this. Everything is the same then. The
sky is blue above me, and the sea blue beneath me.
Then I am lost in the sameness and I am content until
I wake.
