Radically Happy

Continued from Director, Silent.

Well we all have a face
That we hide away forever
And we take them out and show ourselves
When everyone has gone
Some are satin some are steel
Some are silk and some are leather
They’re the faces of the stranger
But we love to try them on
Billy Joel – The Stranger

I emerge from the tunnel at the bottom of my psyche and stand up.

I see a small man, or older boy, wearing a hoodie with a white Guy Fawkes mask.

His voice is familiar.

Earnest: Are you… me?

He shakes his head.

S. Not yet. Call me Stranger.

I start to tremble.

E. You… you are the one I’ve been searching for all along. The other room was a trap, to distract me from finding you.

The Stranger shakes his head.

S. Only in part. It was an also a lure, to draw you towards me. To remind you that something important was missing.

My shaking is uncontrollable.

E. Who locked you away? Was it me? Was it to protect you… or us?

I fall to my knees, overcome with emotion. Longing, regret, loneliness. Emptiness, abandonment, isolation. Despair.

The figure sighs.

S. It was to protect you… from this. The existential terror of being human, of realizing you are cut off from the boundless love at the center of the universe.

The existential terror of being human, of realizing you are cut off from the boundless love at the center of the universe.

The Stranger

I hear a soft click. He kneels down and places the mask over my face.
Instantly the emotions vanish.
He helps me to my feet.

I try to look at him through the eyeholes. I cannot, quite. He is always indistinct, just on the edges of my vision.

E. Why can’t I see you?

He laughs. The joyful, innocent laugh of a child.

S. It was ever thus. The mask we wear to hide us from the pain only works by preventing us from seeing the truth in front of our face.

The mask we wear to hide us from the pain only works by preventing us from seeing the truth in front of our face.

The Stranger

E. So… why are you so happy? Don’t you need the mask?

He laughs again, and it is the bell-sound of angels gaining their wings.

S. I don’t need to hide from the pain. I’m not alone anymore. I have you!

He takes my hand. It seems smaller, younger that I remembered. Or imagined. He starts tugging me back the way I came.

S. Haven’t you heard? It is Christmas. HE is coming.

He speaks softly, but it sounds like a legion of angels bursting into chorus.

“You must take me to Him!”

To be continued