Reason is God's shadow; God is the sun.
What power has the shadow before the sun?
–Masnavi, Book 4 Story 4
≈≈≈
Legion is on the way to paradise when the glow of sunrise through his closed eyelids dims. He sits in lotus position, legs folded under him, the back of his hands resting on his knees, his middle fingers touching his thumbs. He had seen a statue of Buddha doing this and, of all the routes to paradise he has tried, this works the best. The only downside—it attracts a lot of weirdos.
“Have a seat, my friend. You’re blocking my view,” Legion says without opening his eyes.
The orange blares inside his head again and he begins to shrink to a single glowing point hovering over the beach. But paradise remains a floater at the edge of his vision that flicks away if looked at directly. When he opens his eyes, a golden carpet stretches across the water from the sunrise to where he sits; the ocean waves bow before him.
“Are you crazy?”
Legion blinks. He first thinks the question came from the sun and then he turns to a naked bald man, an inner tube of fat bulging at his waist, slumped on the sand beside him. Legion suspects the man is an apparition. Since he hovers at the blurred boundaries of reality most of the time, it does not frighten him.
“Maybe, I guess. They say if you think you’re crazy, you’re not. I think I’m sane, so maybe I am,” Legion replies.
“I’ve been watching you come to the beach every morning and I wanted to ask before I have to go back. What are you doing?”
It seems obvious to Legion, but maybe not. “Worshiping the sun.” Then he adds, “Like you, I suppose.”
“That’s what you believe? The sun is God?”
Legion turns to the dun disk cut in half by the horizon, newly molten, humble, approachable. In a few moments it will reign again, too spectacular to look at directly. He turns back to the man. The flesh looks solid but the vacant face makes him seem hollow. Legion is dubious.
“If I were religious, I could look up what I don’t know in a book. It’s not that simple. Considering the limitations of the human brain and language, a dog would have a better chance explaining atomic physics with barks. Maybe the mysteries of the universe aren’t knowable.”
The man’s eyes jerk open wide when he realizes Legion is waiting for a response. He squints out at the horizon for a moment as if considering, but then his eyes deaden and turn to the sand.
Legion lifts both hands palms-up beside his head and shrugs. “Well, just stretch a myth between the things you do know. This works for most people. For me, I’m training myself to better tolerate the unknown, think less human—more like a dog.”
They sit quietly together watching the ocean give birth to the sun. The lower edge of the blood-red orb stretches back to the grasp of the slate ocean before it tears loose and floats free and round like a soap bubble.
Legion closes his eyes again hoping the gurgling surf will flush the intruder out of his head.
“Dad,” the man says.
Legion ignores him.
“Legion!” the man yells insistently close to his ear.
When Legion turns, he is startled to see the fat man has morphed into a younger version of himself.
“What are you doing?” his younger self yells.