The Gardeners

"You're not allowed in here." The white-coated intern placed the palm of her hand on the tall, hoodied intruder's shoulder and turned him toward the door. "You will go now, and enjoy your day."

Her smirking lab partner was incredulous. The door closed and the two high-fived. "I didn't know you were skilled in the art of Jedi Mind Tricks."

"Just communicating expectations and conveying authority." She quickly locked the door latch. "This is my lab. And I will defend it!" She struck a Wonder Woman pose. The poster behind her was of a same-posed Lynda Carter as Wonder Woman circa 1976.  

Dr. Benjamin Sukai Walker was in the next room meditating, as he did every Monday from 11:30 am to 2:00 pm. Isolated from the sights and sounds just witnessed, he was connected to an EEG harness that measured his brainwaves. The interns, Dante and Irma, knew that any disturbance would have meant the loss of the day's data and catastrophic delay. They were relieved. They didn't have time to make sense of what had happened. Checked it off as random happenings on a university campus.

Behind the door, Dr. Walker was sitting still, experiencing a wild stream of unusual encephalograph changes -- something Dante quickly noted and shared with Irma. "Thetas to alphas here and here. Sawtoothing." Nods.

It was about a month ago that "Ben", as Dr. Walker was known at home, dropped his pot habit. He credited his wife and her idea that "intoxicants muddle the third eye," but there could have been something else... He'd done it. It wasn't that difficult after a few days, and here he was, feeling a little too lucid in the lab. Something was truly amiss. He was trying to settle himself, carefully examining feelings and thoughts, and letting them pass.

It was almost not working, which was unusual...

And then it snapped.

"We are together," a voice said.

--

Dr. Walker didn't try to determine a source. He let that go. "We are together," he repeated slowly and deliberately, allowing all possible consequences -- including that he was suffering hallucinations -- to be appreciated without judgement.

"Yes, we are from far away," was the answer to a question he had merely felt. "We are present here, many, together."

And then very suddenly, the bowl gong sounded. The end of the session.

Dante slowly undimmed the lights in the lab, Dr. Walker opened his eyes and calmly took a deep breath. Irma depressed a red button, "Dr. Walker, please remain seated and do not remove the harness. We had some anomalous activity and I'd like to check the connections."

--

On the bike ride home, he noted the sounds of migrating geese, the first fadings of the maple leaves that lined the road, a thin cool breeze -- Fall was near. A student noticed his signature propeller helmet and waved. He wasn't going to think about what happened in the lab, if the data was now a problem, or something more serious. He would enjoy the ride. 

As he always had, smiling.

--

Ben was breathing hard on the overlook trail when he asked, "Raj, how was quitting grass for you?" 

"'Grass', is that a Cheech and Chong term? You're 35 not 65. Ha! You mean when I cut out weed, did I rage at my pass/fail NS 5 students or kick my dogs? No way, man. Warrior pose!" Raj, hopped on the trail to assume a deep, thigh-straining Warrior 2 position and beaming white smile. "You have to completely change the settings associated with smoking. I painted some rooms, redecorated, new patterns... You know this. Easy." He explained with choppy hands. "And the new yoga habit, a welcome change!"

"Awesome. So no dizziness, hallucinations, painful urination, muscle aches, mental fog, alien visitations, vomiting... anything?" Ben asked, winded.

"Have you hit a rough patch? I'm sorry, my friend. How can I help?"

"Raj, thanks for your concern. I appreciate it." Ben's friendship with Raj went back decades to when they met as incoming freshmen. "I'll be fine. I just thought I'd be done with this by now. Maybe I already am?"

"Done with it? You did it, Ben!" Raj signaled a toast with his homemade rose water kombucha. Like a gameshow model he presented a majestic view of the Pacific Ocean. "You can't do this with troubled lungs."

"Glorious!" Ben sampled from the bottle Raj had poured for him down at his garage. Cool, refreshing, floral aromas, gentle lactic bite... "You should sell this stuff, Raj, seriously. It's amazing."

"Ahh, but I've done the math... The university isn't a bad gig." Raj laughed at his subtext. Ben did too. 

"You're an amazing man, Raj!"

"You definitely are too, Ben! So true. So glad we're friends!"

--

"Mara, this tea is so good. What it is?"

"Oooh isn't it goood?! Oregon hemp, tulsi, lavender, chamomile!" Mara was excitable when it came to tea. "They call it Slumber Jack over at Fanteastic. They gave me a little sample, I bought 4 ounces. Glad you like it." They were nearing the bottom of the pot. "Did you want more?"

"No, the company is delightful but I'd like to sit a few minutes, outside. It's so nice. And moonless." Ben opened the back door to feel the evening air. Not too wet. Not too cool.

"Alright then, it's solo popcorn and an old movie for me then?" Mara kissed Ben and exited into the kitchen.

"I won't be long." Ben shuffled out to the large covered daybed at the edge of the yard, the flowing drapes all tied to their posts, overlooking town below. 

It never took him long to reach a deep state of meditation. He bypassed any breath focus or letting go of thoughts. He just slipped right into it.

Again. This was unexpected.

"We're here." 

"We're here," Ben repeated. 

Ben let the questions arise naturally. Was this real? Who were they? Why were they contacting him? Did they have a message?

"Of course this is real. You know this. You're of perfectly sound mind, which is why we chose you. Who we are is a difficult question. We understand that levels of awareness as we observe them in ourselves, animals, plants, fungi, bacteria can vary considerably. We can imagine that humans are not at the extreme terminal end of this level of awareness, if you can also imagine the broad array of life in the universe. We understand that humans may appear at the level of bacteria to other beings, sufficiently advanced."

None of this was challenging to Ben. He remembered brewing beer in his late teens and marvelling at the colonies of visibly expanding life. How might these yeasts perceive him, if they could? Was he a giant or a god? He felt sad to see millions of dead yeast bodies collecting at the bottom of his carboy.

"So, this went well. We're communicating. You're receiving. We will return." And everything vanished into a pinpoint.

His eyes were open. It was late, and chilly. The night was beautiful and more stars shone in the darker sky. As he entered the sliding back door, he saw a gift -- a small covered bowl of popcorn left for him. The lights were out. Mara had gone off to sleep long ago.

Ben wasn't hungry but he spent more than a small moment regarding the bowl with a smile. He never tired of these little gestures of love and caring. He felt he had accepted his childhood as simply being different from this. Mara's love and caring filled a hole in Ben's heart she could never fully imagine.

--

Cora wore the shaved head and flowing robes of a monk. She was Ben's longtime coach and mentor. She normally paced around her expansive office waiting for Ben's questions, and then again pausing to answer. 

"Of course hallucinations are possible with meditation, Ben. In some traditions, such as Tibetan Buddhism, they're very well described. Nimitta, a sign, often lights. Some practitioners are tasked with generating them, often with the help of prolonged sensory deprivation. Visions, voices, gods. This is all quite... expected."

"Expected. I definitely wasn't expecting this. I know the mind will fabricate what's it's missing, filling in gaps, jumping to conclusions, or misfiring out of sheer boredom, but these couple events have been quite vivid. Something different."

Ben stopped. And it felt like withholding. He was sure Cora assumed he was protecting himself. Now the pause. 

"You shouldn't be worried..."

"I'm not worried." He hadn't let her speak completely, and he was embarrassed. She allowed a long pause for him to consider himself. 

Ben discovered he was a bit more fearful of schizophrenia or a psychotic break than he believed he was. He was afraid of what she might have asked. And then she spoke.

"You shouldn't be if these are artifacts of meditation - explainable, nothing to be afraid of." Cora put her fingers together and slowly drew her hands to her chest. "How do you feel about them?"

Ben thought, sighed, shook his head. "I don't know."

"And that's okay." It was Cora's leitmotif. "You may benefit from additional time spent sitting."

Ben repeated the Zen saying, "'You should sit in meditation about ten minutes per day. Except when you're busy, in which case you should sit for an hour.' I'm not busy, and I don't feel nervous, but I agree. I'll be sitting more. Certainly." 

--

He'd spent his commute following his headlight, riding the regular route, happy, unconcerned, and easing the urgency he felt after waking to establish contact again. 

"Good morning, Dr Walker." Ivan was the old security officer at the Neuroscience building who'd just buzzed him in. The actual morning wouldn't be for another hour. Dr Walker hurried to the elevators. He had some time before others arrived. As he walked down the hall to his office, he soon arrived at a purpose. He didn't want to be wanting contact. It was about creating his availability. Letting it happen. He was fulfilling a responsibility to follow these events wherever they took him -- without fear or desire to make anything happen.

It took longer than usual to settle. Ben took a few long, deep breaths. He felt some beginnings of a deep meditative state, but going deeper was feeling elusive. Something wasn't right. 

This happens. A perfect time for a pause, before starting again.

He grabbed his matcha from his desk, hot water from the break room, and then off to his favorite morning place in the nearby garden. There was something particularly wonderful about an early morning green tea. Both stimulating and calming. And before his first sip, he felt his place in the natural tea of the morning dew, steeping the fallen needles and leaves in the nearby forest. Why not here?

"Why not here?" A voice repeated. 

Ben was already sunk deep in samadhi. Answers were arriving in a single but paradoxical voice of what felt like everyone's.

"No, we aren't from another planet. But you might say we're from another world."

"No, we are not gods, though it might feel that way to some humans. We are not something you would understand, but the nearest idea... might be to think of us as gardeners."

"We have a close attachment to your mitochondria which are the alien DNA that supply energy for all plant and animal cells on Earth. We work with chordates, primarily. And fungi."

"We're contacting, intervening to adjust the care of earth."

"We've contacted many others. Most won't answer the call. We're working together. We're all here. It's going to take effort and coordination. We are optimistic."

"Adjustments. We don't control, merely adjust conditions. Adjustments will be how we all bring Earth into balance."

The bowl gong sounded. His timer. But he was slow in coming back, opening his eyes. Very slow. It was a lot to process.

--

Ben was going to be a minute late to a faculty meeting on the other side of campus. And in came a long text from Mara, while he hustled out to his bike. 

"Hey Miel," Mara would call him 'honey' in French, "I'm filling out these medical insurance forms and I'm sorry to bring this up. They're asking for an age of onset for your mother's disease." The "disease" was schizophrenia. Mara was always gentle with him about it.

"I was eight years old. Third grade. So she was 33." Send. Ben observed that there always seemed to be computations. 

The soft whir of his bike helmet propeller was slightly louder, slightly higher pitched. But he never rode hard enough to break a sweat around campus. Although he could. He smiled. Eight minutes of ride time.

As he snapped his u-lock in place and looked up, he knew something was a little off. As he headed to the Jacobsen glass doors, he noticed more cars in the lot. The doors were closed, instead of propped open as he pushed his way through. A silver-bearded man dressed in an over-sized brown suit greeted him as headed for the door. "Sir, you're not allowed in there."

"What?" Ben placed his hand on the door. "Neuroscience faculty meeting?" 

"It's been canceled, sir. The governor is visiting. You should have received an email," the man explained. Ben dropped his hand from the door. The man was quickly joined by another and was slide-stepping in closer to ensure Ben was on his way.

"Yeah, sorr--"

"Ben!" It was Raj moving too quickly down the hall. "You got a few minutes?"

"Yea, it looks like I do, Raj. What's up?" Oversized-suit whispered into his lapel and the other man vanished.

"Late summer pruning."

Raj grew too many fruit trees and vines for his busy schedule, but he did his best to care for them. "Raj, I would love to. You know I love working your orchard. I've just had a mildly chaotic morning and need a little break."

"Lunch at Greens?" Raj was always there to talk it out. 

Ben knew Mara wasn't expecting him, and being with himself was what he needed a break from. "Yeah, let's roll."

--

Ben really did love Raj's orchards. Maybe even more than Raj, because he really cared about them. Raj had the technical know-how, the desire for impressive fruits. Ben had the love. He noticed when a tree was looking "sad", and felt when pruning was enough, or too much. Pointing out the differing sizes of several trees and vines, he got Raj to consider a drip irrigation system. 

--

On his way to Greens, interrupting the delight of Raj fake-seriously pretending to race him, Dr. Benjamin Sukai Walker, suddenly woke up.

--

At lunch, Raj was there. "Ben, talk to me. What's been troubling you?" Raj had a "comfortably concerned" pose that was stock photo quality. 

"Raj, I was going to engage you in a thrilling story of beings from another dimension and their chordate mitochondria. I'm sure you would have humored me. You're a wonderful friend." Ben paused and smiled long enough for Raj to chuckle. "But you know, my mom and my relationship was complicated."

"Understatement. My friend, you've been through a lot. I know your childhood was hard."

Ben smiled. "My dad helped me through so much. He helped me understand and accept my mom for who she was, even when it was scary or embarrassing. He taught me to never look away from pain or sorrow. That just amplifies it."

"Losing the closeness, caring, and support of your mom at age 8 was hard."

Ben smiled again, the kind with bits of pain on the edges. "Yes, indeed. It took many years to feel that out. Mara has been so good at helping me through whatever would arise."

"Mara is a saint!" Raj raised his turmeric and carrot juice in a toast. "So what about you? How are you feeling?"

"I guess I've been worried about myself. My schizophrenia risk was about 10 percent from my mom having it. I quit pot to reduce my odds by half."

Raj knew a fair bit about the topic from his years as a clinician. "You're well past the typical age of onset in males, and your chances fade every year."  

"I was worried. I have a healthier concern now, I feel. I mean just now. Like 20 minutes ago when you were racing me." Ben was great at conveying conviction with his hands. "It was a fear I didn't know I had because I had conditioned myself not to look. It was all wrapped up with the pain associated with my mother's illness and our relationship. Tucked away without my knowing. But now, chorus of angels...", pointed at Raj.

Raj whole-heartedly obliged, "AAAAHHHHH...," hitting a seraphic register.

"I can see it!" Ben shouted, a lot too loudly, in a public place. "And can accept it if it happens to me! I'm certainly okay if it doesn't! I can help adjust the outcome probabilities, but ultimately, the future is beyond my control. So I do my best with what I can, make adjustments, and let the rest play out as it may."

Raj looked a lot more relaxed. "My friend. I don't know how you do this. You're incredible. I love you."

"Thank you, Raj. I love you too. And in the meantime, any moment I spent worrying about what happens in the future is senseless and just detracts from the finite time I can enjoy with all the people I love and enjoy." Ben raised his second wheat grass shot. "To life, my friend!"

"To life!"