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The Master's Barn Sep 16th, 2001 There was a time when I thought my training was complete. Of course, it wasn't. But I grew up in a place and time when my elders had long since put away the brashness of a youthful civilization. So I suppose it was only natural that I, still young, overestimated my talents and underestimated the mysteries.   * * * * *   It was a warm and sunny morning when I walked into the garden. The Master, always calm, but full of life and energy, was sitting on a bench, peering at the sky. "Come, sit next to me," he said beckoning. I could tell by the laughter in his eyes that he had a new exercise for me. I sat down next to him and squinted as I looked upwards and tried to see what he saw. All I could see was endless blue sprinkled with a few tiny ice crystals forming silvery waves of cirrus clouds. "What do you see?" he asked. "I see endless sky and clouds." "Is it beautiful?" he asked? "Yes, indeed." "It is time to go for a walk," the Master said as he rose abruptly. "There is something I want to show you." We left the garden and walked out into the desert. The sand and rocks felt warm on my sandals, and a gentle warm breeze was in my face. The Master led the way, striding smoothly and comfortably with his walking stick. At first I enjoyed the walk, but soon we were very far from the home place. "How much further?" I asked. But the Master just grunted and moved onward at an even brisker pace. We walked on for several more hours, I had long ago become tired and thirsty. As the sun rose towards midday, and the temperature, rose, I began to think how I might shield my head from the heat of the sun. In time, I felt the need to rest, and so I stopped and sat under a small bush, trying to shield myself from the sun. The Master stopped and turned, looking at me with a twinkle in his eye. He knelt next to me. "Are you well?" he asked. "No. I fear I am not well," I said wiping the sweat from my face. "You must do something for me now," the Master said quietly. "You must look up at the sky again." He waited while I raised my head and squinted up at the sky. "What do you see now?" he asked. "I see endless sky and clouds." "Is it beautiful?" "It is beautiful ... and deadly," I added. "The sun may kill us both." "But nothing has changed," the Master said, shrugging in a nonchalant and yet mildly arrogant way. "What do you conclude?" Ahh... I felt the point of this exercise coming home to me. There was seldom a learning experience with the Master that was not accompanied by pain. I tried to clear my head. "The sky is beautiful," I said slowly, "when it celebrates my life. The sky is ugly when it threatens my life." I had no idea what I was saying. "Yet nothing has changed," he shrugged. I took a deep breath. "Indeed. Nothing has changed. Except me." "It would seem that the beauty and the ugliness are within you, inseparable. And the sun continues to shine." "So it would seem," I whispered hoarsely. "Here," he said, pulling a jug from within his robes. "Drink this. Then we shall return home." I resisted the temptation to say something about his keeping the liquid to himself so long. It is seldom profitable to question the Master's ways.   * * * * * That incident was many, many years ago, before I became a Master I recalled, as I walked on the soft carpet of the office area. It was a very odd sensation to be so closely coupled to the tactile sensations of my surroundings at yet be so aloof at the same time. I looked into the corner office, but it was empty. Out the large windows, the view from the 90th floor was nothing but blue, cool sky. Sitting in a cubicle outside the office was a stunning young woman, in her early twenties, with blonde hair. I paused to look at her, and noticed that she was deep in thought as she peered into her computer screen. I felt the building shake beneath me, as everyone else did, but I know that I was probably not working hard enough to feel the same sense of fear that those around me felt. Suddenly, everyone was out of their cubicles and and offices, running for the stairwell. The young woman slid a desk drawer open, grabbed her purse, and ran for the stairs as well. Smoke rushed from the stairwell, as soon as the doors were opened, and those who had lunged into the stairs came rushing back out screaming that there was a huge fire and that the passage was blocked. The young woman sat on the floor and nervously pulled out her cell phone. I could hear her talking to her husband, who was on the ground not far away. She was sobbing, describing the terrible explosion and smoke that was filling the offices. She told him that she loved him and then sat, braced against the wall, starting to cough. One of the young men had doused some napkins with a bottle of water and handed them to her, urging her to cover her face with them. Slowly, it was dawning on her that she was going to die, and there was nothing she could do. Saddened, I walked over to her and put my hand on her forehead. Her skin was warm and moist, and her breathing was troubled. I felt the flow from my hand to her forehead and closed by eyes to concentrate on the form and shape of the thoughts. Soon her breathing was relaxed. She looked up and gazed straight through me with calm, moist blue eyes. There was sorrow, but there was acceptance. I will not forget that look. Soon, everyone was overcome by smoke and lay unconscious. I walked over to the window and saw the other building on fire. I remembered what the Master had said to me about the sky. The evil and the goodness were inseparable. That was the eternal mystery. The floor began to collapse, and I sensed that it was time to leave.   * * * * *   I returned to the garden at the home place and reflected. The sun was starting to set, and the air was becoming cooler. I watched the sun slowly sink into pink clouds and worked to compose my thoughts. One of my students approached. "Master, I have been working hard to understand one of the ancient parables. Can you help me?" "Which parable is that?" I asked. "Matthew, 13:24" I reflected for a second. "Ah, yes. The parable of the farmer's wheat field and the weeds." "Yes, Master." "The parable says that at harvest time, the weeds which grew up with the wheat will be separated. The weeds will be bundled together and burned. Then the wheat, which grew up with the weeds, will be brought into the barn for the winter." "That's the one. My question is, why cannot the weeds simply be removed when they are young?" "What you are asking me," I said, "is why evil must coexist with good." "Yes. That is my question." "Come back tomorrow morning," I said quietly. "Then we shall take a walk." I saw hesitation in my student's eyes as he started to ask what the adventure might be all about. But then, wisely, he abstained, bowed, and went inside. As I watched the sun set behind the mountains, I took a deep breath. It was going to be a long night, and there was much to do. Copyright 2001 by John Martellaro, All rights reserved. Quantum Threads banner artwork by Tracy Haynes. This is a work of fiction. All people, places, entities, and events are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons living or dead, business establishments, events or locales is entirely coincidental. About the Author John Martellaro lives in Colorado at 2,800 meters above sea level with a Ph.D. wife and two cats, Nikki and Data. He holds a B.S. in Astrophysics and an M.S. in Physics. His hobbies, include amateur astronomy, downhill skiing, bicycling, and listening to piano solos. His personal Macs are a B&W G3/400 with a flat screen Studio Display and a TiBook.  The Quantum Log .	"