Talents and Gifts
He opened his eyes, although he wasn't certain they were ever really closed. He sat in a chair, neither comfortable nor uncomfortable. An open field surrounded him. Green grass and wild flowers of yellows and purples stretched to the horizon. The only interruption, a blemish, on the idyllic scene was another man in a chair facing his.
The other man seemed out of focus. His features were unclear. The first man, the one who had just opened his eyes, tried to identify the man who was little more than a blemish against the meadow.
"Who are you?" He asked, not expecting an answer, as the idea that he was in a dream brought on by... that was it... the accident. He'd been driving too fast. He lost control of his Ferrari. 'That was a fantastic car,' he mused, forgetting about the man, without discernable features, sitting across from him.
"What have you done with that which I have given you?" The out of focus man finally spoke.
The Ferrari, yes, that explained everything. He wondered if he was injured. Then the thought flickered through his mind, "Am I dead?" He saw his own obituary flash before him.
'Shep Blackburn, 43, dies in automobile accident.'
They'd say more, wouldn't they?
"What have you done with that which I've given you?" Again, the question.
Shep responded, "I don't understand."
"Gifts, talents."
"Given by whom?" Shep asked. "I am self made. I came from nothing, and I made myself what I am."
"Perhaps." For a moment the man's face came almost into focus.
"It's from the accident," Shep said. "I'm not seeing you clearly."
"You never have seen me."
"You know," Shep replied to the man's cryptic comment. "I'm pretty important. Do you know that I've recorded fifteen albums. I have written almost every song on them. Everyone has gone gold. Some have reached platinum status. I am worth millions."
"Your gifts."
"Yes, you're right. My gifts. My talents. I developed them, and I became successful."
"In whose eyes?"
"The world's," Shep answered.
Shep noticed a change in the landscape behind the other man. There was still a meadow with flowers of yellows and purples. But now, now there were two doors. They were just there, elevated, suspended in the air. There were frames holding them in place, but no walls to speak of.
"Do you know me?" The man queried
"My eyes. I think I was in an accident. I lost control of my Ferrari. Maybe I have a head injury. I can't see you clearly."
"You've never looked."
Shep closed his eyes again. Maybe he'd wake up in a hospital room with a contusion on his head and some groupie by his side, crying her eyes out.
"What are your songs about?" The man asked.
"Lots of things. Some are love songs."
"Lust," the man said. "Your songs do not speak of love. They are void of love. They are songs of lust. They speak of the ideals of your world."
Suddenly a harsh reality began to unfold in Shep's mind. He asked, what he considered a simple question. Knowing the answer might be complex. "Am I dead?"
The man, whose face was now completely out of focus, held out his arms to his sides. His hands were palms up. The two doors seemed to rest on his open palms.
"One of these doors leads to peace. It leads to love. It leads to values your world spurns. Those who know me will enter through that door. The other one leads elsewhere. Behind that door there is lust. There is pride. There is greed. There are egos without control. There is self-righteousness. But there, behind that door, I do not exist."
"But I don't know who you are," Shep said, then asked his own question, "What does it matter whether you are there or not?"
The man didn't answer Shep's question, instead he simply replied, "Choose a door."
"But how do I know which is which?"
The man remained silent for a moment, holding his arms out as if both doors were resting in his palms. Finally he said, "Those who know me seek peace. They are those who do not seek the torment of the world they wallow in. They are meek. The only difference, which matters to some, is my presence. In the world, where your body lies broken, thrown from a vehicle that speaks of nothing but your greed. I am in that world, despite its wars and hunger and thirst. I bring peace, but you, Shep Blackburn, have never sought peace, or love. You have never sought goodness. You have never considered your soul. So, the question is, which door do you choose?"
Very slowly Shep responded, "I. Don't. Know."
"But your soul, which has never sought me, does."
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