2
He listened to the resonant speeches from the platform and realised that he couldn’t understand what was being said. He noticed however that the uttered words transformed the air.
The first master of the long table spoke slowly, and his words induced a great calm over the hall. A wind of peace blew over from the words, spreading warmth and extending the spaces. Soon the hall seemed very vast. The words began to resonate from the magical frescoes.
The first master created a landscape filled with peaceful spirits, with a faun playing a pan-pipe, and a white horse galloping up the first mountain, and the leaves of the trees glistening under a heavenly light.
The words began to alter the hall, began to so expand the spaces that, sitting in the front row, he suddenly felt himself surrounded by benign presences in an expanse of light. He seemed utterly alone in the blue dazzling lights of the vast hall.
And then, out of the words, music began playing. He listened to the ritual music, to its bells and flutes and pan-pipes and violins, its tinkling harmonies, its soaring pastoral mood.
And he became aware, as he listened, that he was now in a different place. He dwelled there for a long time, not knowing where it was, but sensing that he was being raised up, being changed, as he lingered.
When he came to himself there was a new silence all about and he realised that the first master had finished and that he hadn’t understood. He was about to turn his head towards the seat next to him, where his female guide was supposed to be, when the hall erupted in applause and joyful acclamation.
3
After a long pause, the second master began speaking. Still he couldn’t understand. Then as he listened he noticed again how the words were altering the hall.
Diamond lights shimmered from the words and spangles of emerald sunlight danced about the place, dwelling briefly and intensely on every person in the hall. And when the sunlight dwelled on him he shouted and nearly burst out of his body for the sheer beatification of his being.
Then a tender aroma of honeysuckle wafted out of the words, charming the air. Then a gentle incense wove its way round the invisible personages. And then an odour of boundless seas, of those spaces between water and sky where all is perpetually purified by the winds of heaven, blew in rhythmic waves through the hall.
And then he realised that he was somewhere else, in an eternal room of meditation, amongst the most magical thoughts and enchanted silences in the world.
The thoughts converged there from all realms. And each thought had infinite possibilities. He could have dwelled in any single one of those magical thoughts for a lifetime and not realised its full potential. Each of the thoughts, simple and clear like a drop of pure water, or a moment in a dream, revolved silently, and filled the room, and co-existed with all the others. The thoughts came from stones and seraphs, from trees and birds, from beings who dwelled in the air and beings who dwelled beyond the air, from human beings all over the world and beings in all the other spheres, from the dreams of the living and the continued meditations of the dead, from sea and cloud, from spirit and star, the thoughts came, and they went through him and left no imprints, and he noticed how small the room was for such crowded infinities.
And the enchanted silences converged there too from all realms. And each of the silences also had infinite possibilities and magnification without end. He could have lived in any of the silences for a millennium and not exhausted its mystery. Each of the silences, vast and serene, like a moment on the highest mountain, or a gentle breeze within a mirror, permeated the room, and dwelled at ease with all the others. The silences came from mountaintops covered with snow and the depths of unfathomed oceans, from the face of the moon and the forests at night, from the stalagmites of green caves and the axis of constellations, from human beings in their lonely places and beings in their higher spaces, from the dreams of a newborn babe and the first moments of emerging flowers, from angels and diamonds, from the heart of Time and the languid countrysides, from the hidden dimensions and the hidden heaven, from all the dead and all whose hearts quicken to the highest love, the silences came, and they passed through him, and they altered no spaces, and he noticed how real the room of meditations was for such dancing eternities.
Then, as he was about to stand up and begin dancing himself in nameless joy, he was stunned by another eruption of applause and exultation. He found himself back in the august hall again. The hall quaked under the rousing reception all the Invisibles were giving the second master. He still hadn’t understood what was said.
Bewildered now, and puzzled by the way in which the words were altering the universe about him, he turned to the empty space where his female guide was, and said:
‘Maybe you can explain.’
But all he got by way of an explanation was a touch of such tenderness that he was amazed by the momentary simplicity of everything.
He didn’t have long to dwell in that moment’s understanding when the third master of the silver table began to speak.
4
The words of the third master were melodious and they filled the hall with music.
Out of the words flowed notes of perfect resolution, sonatas of joy, limpid moments between delightful chords, the laughter of a happy child, the serenity of light rain at midnight, a city at peace with its greatness, unheard notes on the musical scale, bird-calls at dawn, glittering ideas in sound, the vision of beautiful things flowering from great suffering, the hint of a grand and majestic aria flowing across the faces of the mountaintops and at rest on the gentle bed of the oceans, a song spiralling towards an unseen silver sphere, a praise of invisible things that are irresistible and supreme for being invisible, the blissful realm of the purest dreams, a tower of light, a river of sweet melodies, a calling forth of hidden things, the tranquillity that has gone beyond life and death, a white stairway climbing into the heavens, and the humour of those who are at home with their destiny.
All of this, and more, flowed out of the hidden music of the third master’s words and out of the melody of his voice. And, as the third master spoke on, the hall was suddenly abolished, its walls rendered invisible, and the new space was radiant with the appearance of a summoned being, the tender presence of the great mother, protectress of the island and its secret ways.
The swirling energies of this being were everywhere, making the spaces alive with something akin to the electrification of the spirit, and a mighty collective hum of praise burst forth from the congregation of the illuminators. The hall now seemed to have lifted off into the air, and the city seemed in flight. Such a splendid weightlessness pervaded everything, and all those in the great hall seemed to be afloat on a silver cloud, spiralling into the soaring sublimity of the great mother.
It wasn’t long before he felt that something about him had changed forever in that celestial mood. He felt that he had become smaller and therefore greater, that he had become hidden and therefore could learn to see, that he had become a secret and therefore open to all truths, that he had become his own mystery and therefore could begin to understand, and that he had been touched by the creative spirit of finding and therefore could begin his true quest.
And while still afloat in that heavenly mood, he became aware that something had changed around him too. He noticed the deep blue silence and realised that the third master had finished.
The silence was the applause, the highest applause, that the congregation of the Invisibles could have given to one of their most venerable illuminators.
Book 7
1
The silence after the third master’s speech went on for a long time. Everything seemed to dissolve in that long silence. It was so profound that, for a moment, he was no longer sure if anyone was actually around. He felt that he was alone and insane in a vast empty hall.
And then the silence changed. It became the silence of all the Invisibles in contemplation of their great dream and destiny. This was one of their favoured forms of making vi
sions real.
The silence went on so long that he became frightened. He felt himself disintegrating. Then, as he began to panic at the duration of the stillness, he became aware that the silence was speaking to him. The silence said many things beyond his comprehension, and what he heard were the lesser things. And the silence spoke to him, saying:
‘Time is different here. We measure time differently, not by the passing of moments or hours, but by lovely deeds, creative accomplishments, beautiful transformations, by little and great perfections.
‘Size is also measured differently here. For us something is great if it is beautiful, if it is true, and if it has life. Something is small if it has none of these things. A little perfection is large for us. A large thing without beauty or truth is small for us. A creative seed is greater than a mountainous lump. Hence the invisible things are the smallest and the highest things amongst us. If a thing, a quality, an art, a gesture, a form becomes so refined and pure as to become invisible then it has ascended into the eternal.
‘On the whole, big things are small for us. Great fame, great visibility, great temporal power are the easiest things for us to accomplish, according to our way. Hence we deem them small, and not worthy of our efforts.
‘The most difficult thing for us is to do things which achieve permanence in the higher universe, and which are unseen, and can never therefore be destroyed. Our highest acts of creativity are in the empty spaces, in the air, in dreams, in unseen realms. There we have our cities, our castles, our greatest books, our great music, our art, science, our truest love, our fullest sustenance. If you are lucky you will partake of this higher condition, and delight in its power that transcends all boundaries.
‘And sometimes – very rarely – but sometimes nonetheless, our highest creative acts, our highest playfulness, our self-overcoming, our purest art, our ascending songs, by some mysterious grace transcend so many boundaries and enter so many realms that we occasionally astonish even the gods.
‘The best things in the world dwell in the realm of pure light, from where they spread their influence to all corners of the universe, to stones and men and worms, and even to stars and the dead and to angels. We are learning to be masters of the art of transcending all boundaries. We are learning to go beyond the illusion that is behind illusion.
‘And even our way and our discoveries are still young in all their possibilities. We wake every day in a state of absolute humility and joyfulness at all that lies possible before us.
‘Therefore we have no fame. We live quietly, as if within a sacred flame, and no one outside this island knows we exist. In our silence we dedicate ourselves to the perfection of our spirits, consecrated to serving the highest forces in the universe.
‘We do not want to be remembered, or praised. We only want to increase the light, and to spread illumination.’
Book 8
1
He listened deeply to the silence speaking, till the silence itself changed. Something else took its place, a mood of expectation. He looked about him. The banners and buntings of the invisible city guild remained still. The trumpets and flutes were silent. A higher glow had entered the hall. He couldn’t explain its source.
Then he heard his female guide say something to him. She said it three times before he heard. Then there was a long pause before he understood. And when he understood he became confused.
‘You can only receive what you already have. You can only be given what you’ve already got,’ she said, gently.
Still confused, he was about to speak when she touched him again. The effect of her touch was to make him intensely conscious of the fact that he was the focus of the expectant mood in the hall.
‘Your moment has come,’ she said, sweetly. ‘You are being summoned to the stage.’
‘But what for?’ he asked, when he recovered from his confusion.
‘For having got here,’ she replied kindly. ‘Go, and you will find out.’
And so, with much trepidation, he rose and climbed the stairs to the stage. When he got on stage he noticed that both sides of the stage wall were composed of glowing mirrors. He was surprised that he hadn’t noticed them before. Then it occurred to him that they weren’t there before.
Within the mirrors, there were worlds and realms and dazzling existences. The things he glimpsed filled him with a shining terror. He tried not to look into the mirrors again.
He stood near the table closest to the edge of the stage, and he could feel the illuminated presence of the invisible masters behind him. He could also sense the uplifting effect of the colours and symbols on the banners. He felt the stoic rectitude of the invisible city guild, and the benevolent patience of the master musicians.
While he stood there a glass of water appeared mysteriously before him. He drank the water, and the glass was retrieved back into invisibility. Something cleared in his head. The clarity within him felt amazing, as if he had been given a new consciousness. The silence became deeper in the hall. It was a silence so clear he felt the doors of a higher realm had been opened. When he looked around he was amazed to see how truly vast the hall was, and he was awestruck by the sheer collective force of the invisible congregation.
And then, to his horror, he found himself in two places at the same time. He was still on the stage, in the hall, surrounded by the dazzling Invisibles, his mind in darkness. And yet, simultaneously, he was at the threshold of the great hall, beneath the arches, flooded in an ineffable light. The light was so universal that he couldn’t see.
He stood in the utter darkness of light, at the threshold, under the arch, in deep silence, when he heard again the question he hadn’t answered three times before. But this time the question had changed and the voice asking it was angelic.
‘WHAT IS THE PURPOSE OF INVISIBILITY?’
Again silence weighed down his mind. But as he stood there, trembling in his inability, he felt the presence of his third guide and, without thinking, replied:
‘PERFECTION.’
The lights became brighter, dissolving him in their deeper darkness. And the voice, more urgent, more seraphic, said:
‘WHAT IS THE DREAM OF THE INVISIBLES?’
The silence that swelled in his mind made him soar into the edges of the light, flailing in the air. He was helpless and stricken with terror. But before he started to scream, the spirit of his second guide came to him and, with his heart beating faster under the mystery of his own clarity, he cried:
‘TO CREATE THE FIRST UNIVERSAL CIVILISATION OF JUSTICE AND LOVE.’
After a brief silence, he heard strains of music. Then he saw, briefly, a faun playing on a flute. It played notes of such heartbreaking beauty that he started to weep. Then the music ceased, and the vision disappeared. The light and the darkness were now one.
And the voice, quieter now, almost inaudible, as if a deity was speaking with the register of the wind in the tall grass, said:
‘WHAT IS THE MYSTERY OF THE BRIDGE?’
Lost in the perfect equality of darkness and light, of silence and sound, he wandered in the cool spaces of the question. Not afraid anymore, but brimming with joy, he felt the presence of his first guide. And, with a smiling voice, he replied:
‘CREATIVITY, AND GRACE.’
At that moment he was overcome with light, flooded with a supernal intelligence. He could feel the appreciation of the Invisibles. He could feel the warm brilliance of their smiles. It was like a faint golden mist in the hall, a fragrance of sunlight. He became as a child.
2
A moment before he saw the congregation of the Invisibles as a host of luminous beings in vaporous white, he saw her mighty wings. He caught his breath. As if in a sublime dream, momentary as a vision of heaven, he saw her again, hovering above everything, conferring her benediction on all who are under her protection. He saw again – the liminal archangel of invisibility.
And as he stood there on the platform, dimly aware of the curious nature of his destiny, the most wo
nderful thing happened. He noticed something stirring within the mirror. And out of the mirror came a unicorn with a diamond horn. Before he could breathe, the unicorn trotted towards him silently. Then it stopped, and turned its mesmeric eyes upon him. Its horn was pointed heavenward.
Lost in the hypnotic eyes of the unicorn, he heard a sweet and primeval voice in the air say:
‘Because your heart is pure you have found without seeking, overcome without knowing that you overcame, and arrived here when all who have tried have failed. You were born invisible. For anyone to get here they must, one way or another, come through your condition. There is no other way.’
When the voice ceased he felt, quite suddenly, as if he were in a shining place of silver, where all the known laws were different.
Then the unicorn, shimmering in an emerald light, trotted away from him gracefully and went out through the other mirror, leaving the air tinged with its mysterious philosophies.
3
It came as a shock to him that as he looked into the glowing mirror, he could no longer see himself. He was not reflected there. However, just before he started to scream in mortal terror, he suddenly felt calm. He felt at one with the unknown happiness of the universe. He had become one of the Invisibles. It seems odd and beautiful that he who had left home in search of the secret of visibility should have found a higher invisibility, the invisibility of the blessed.
We hope you enjoyed this book.
Head of Zeus are proud to be reissuing a collection of Ben Okri’s best works alongside his brand new novel, The Age of Magic:
Dangerous Love
In Arcadia
Astonishing the Gods
A Way of Being Free
Ben talks about the collection here.