ee. Living a Vision.

I am Trainman.

Journal: The timeline starts with Adam. A Jubilee. It’s fifty years.

And in the twelfth jubilee, in the seventh week thereof, he took to himself a wife, and her name was Edni, the daughter of Danel, the daughter of his father's brother, and in the sixth year in this week she bares him a son and he called his name Methuselah. And he was moreover with the angels of God these six jubilees of years, and they showed him everything which is on earth and in the heavens, the rule of the sun, and he wrote down everything. [1] His name was Enoch.

By, Trainman.

Returning after six years.

                Skipping stones. He was. Two skips and a plunk. Three skips and a dance; sinking. A pause. A crow. Three skips and a bounce to the opposing shore. Two crows, then three. The small boy; shirtless. He gathers small stones. He eyes a crow. High in a tree; not alone. Other crows flock. They caw. The boy anticipates a target. A throw. Hit the crow. Make it fall.

                Blue pristine waters. Clear, cool. Green vegetation and trees heavy with fruit. Large deep red apples, pears, oranges. Berries? None of the fruit looked like exactly modern day. No labels, no owner, no rows. Brilliant in color. The fruit, larger than any I’d ever seen. Ancestral fruit.

                Gnats in my eyes. I wave them away. Where is my train? Déjà vu? No railroad tracks. No railroads. No electricity. What just happened? Who is this boy? Why do I feel so foreign? People know me yet I don’t know them. I think I have some form of amnesia. Reality is elusive. Watery eyes.

                I see a cat. A predator. An Ocelot?   Large enough to kill a boy. The Ocelot; stalks. Stalks the crow. No. The boy. The big cat’s in the tree-line near the stream. Stalking the boy who is not aware of the cat, or the danger. The boy is occupied with the crows. I raise my hand to alarm the boy; to shout a warning. To distract the predator. A hand pulls my arm down. “Silence.” She says. “Wait.”

                The boy turns. Sees the cat. The cat picks up its’ pace and moves rapidly toward the boy. The boy crouches down. Then stretches his arms outward. He embraces the cat; scratches its fur. He gives a big hug to the cat-the-size-of-him. The crows caw and fly away. The boy? Unharmed. The cat he adores in his arms and purring.

                I turn to the woman who restrained me from breaking that reunion of the boy and the cat. She is lovely. Gorgeous. Brown eyes. Soft tanned complexion. She is tall. Shapely. The coat of skins she wears is adorned with the natural soft fur; not rough hide. The fur is soft. Lovely. Not a saber tooth, but some other furry animal gave up its life for that coat of skins. She gazes into my eyes and smiles with beautiful full lips. She’s passionate about me for some reason. As if she knows me. I do not know her. But I want to.

                I ask, “Who is the boy?”

                She replies, “that is your son. Methuselah. The son of Enoch. The Grandson of Jared, who is the son of Mahalaleel, of the son of Cainan, then of Enos, the son of Seth, who is the son of Adam, our son of God."[2]

                My mind spins. (Can she be more specific?) “He is my son?”

                Edni replies, “And who am I?”

                Her eyes are so beautiful. I could only wish for such a friend. I could only dream of such a lover. Am I dreaming? How do I know her name?

                The boy, Methuselah runs across the stream. The crows once again take flight. The cat is nowhere to be seen. Methuselah runs to me. Hugs me. He knows me. He drops a handful of stones to the ground. Then scoops them into a small pile in the sand. Standing; he hugs me again. Methuselah proclaims, “In this ground, I meet my father. Where we stand I rise to meet you. So tall you are!”

                I kneel to his height. We embrace again.

                Methuselah says, “Mother told me you would return.”

                I inquire, “Mother?”

                Methuselah laughs. As if the question is absurd. “Ma.” He steps to Edni. Embracing her with a loving hug. “Ma! Come!” He takes her hand and chases the stream. Methuselah turns and waves for me to follow. “You must follow!”

                I can’t believe my eyes. I am part of this family? They both know me well. Edni is my wife. I know her name. Even though she never told me. As I recall. How so? Methuselah is my son and I am Enoch? For six years, this is my land and I still do not recall. Where am I? Déjà vu?

                All of these thoughts rush through my mind as I follow them downstream. Where is my spear? Where is my hatchet? I check my waist. The hatchet is snug in a hoop of hide attached to my side. I have no spear. Barefoot I run to catch up with Methuselah, my son.

                My wife and my son. They slow their pace as they approach a dense area of green foliage. They walk softly into the shadows edge of the forest land. Near the stream, a dense set row of bushes. My wife and son pause and then crouch low. They peer into the depths of underbrush. There is a ledge there; within. A dark place. My son and wife; they peer inside. It’s a den. Methuselah points and I hear a cat cry. A kitten. Many kittens. I approach as the kittens stir and cry. I hear a growl. A threatening growl. It’s the big cat. The mother cat? The Ocelot? She is the mother of the kittens and since she does not know me, she threatens me. I stop and stand very still.

                Methuselah takes a kitten to me and places the kitten in my hands. The mother cat watches; threatening. Methuselah approaches the mother cat and pets her. Calms her. She smells his hands, captures my scent, and resigns to my presence; content. I focus my attention on the kitten in my arms. He is so tender. So innocent. So vulnerable.

                After that reunion, Methuselah and Edni escort me back to the home I’d never seen. A camp fire. Many people. All relatives apparently. Even Edni. I learn she is not only my wife; she is my cousin. Yet it’s socially acceptable. The only way to maintain integrity of a bloodline they say. The only bloodline that excludes the Nephilim they say. And after many generations, that bloodline spawns our victory.

                I ask Edni, “Have you heard of Jesus the Christ?”

                She gazes at me with those beautiful eyes pausing; hair flowing. “I have not. Who is he? Where is he? Friend or foe?”  

                I retract my thoughts. “Friend. …Never mind. Another time.”

                I see many huts. Reeds; bamboo everywhere. Large dried leaves. Palm leaves covering the huts. A mix of reeds, wood and palms branches. Plush aggressive bushes of fruits and berries are all around the camp. Similar to what I saw at the stream. Many rich green trees still yielding fruit. The colors bright. Pathways. Instruments of farming. Clay pots. Beads. Spears. Bows. Dancing. Several camp fires can be seen. Sacks of hide containing grain of all sorts line the outside areas of the huts. Fire pits; several. This is a whole society. A family, a village. A neighborhood of homes.

                The three of us sit by a fire. I ask Edni “Who is the leader of this village?”

                She replies, “Seth. He travels. He is our choice. And we are his. He runs the path. He learns. He is not here at present. Enos chose this land for us. Seth is our council. Seth is the father we embrace.”

                I inquire, “What about Adam? Where is he?”

               The fire cracks. Jared my new found father, brings wood to the fire and stokes with a solid branch stripped of all leaves. “Welcome home, son. Six years away. What have you earned? You were with the gods?”

                “The gods? No. Angels. Yes.”

                After an awkward pause, Edni replies, “Adam remains near the river. Near Eden. He has been here before, but he prefers solitude. Close to where Jared found you. Every birthright son visits with Adam.[3] Every birthright son hears with their own ears from Adam, the acts that caused his grief. Every birthright son learns first-hand of our beginning. Jared escorts the birthright sons to Adam’s valley. But we do not live there; ever again. Enos brought us here for safety from the wicked ones.”

                Jared comments, “This is the land of Righteousness. This is our land of peace. Adam’s valley is surrounded by the Nephilim.”

                Edni delivers a flask of water. Sweet water. Like white grapes. Subtle. Perhaps the original flavored water in a bottle? Methuselah scurries off with a stick of fire.

                I ask, “What is the name of this village?”

                Jared replies. “This is the land of Cainan. Named after the son of Enos. The one who brought us out of the land which is called Shulon; an evil place. Much death there. This is why I escort the birthright sons. To protect them. I know the ways.”

                “These names,” I ask. “Kenan. Cainan. And Caanan. I recall so much confusion in these names. Some of the hearsay is lore, I am certain. Some of it is truth. The confusion I am sure is intentional. To divide the generations. The names. All so close; the way they are pronounced. The descendants of Cain. They are here? The Nephilim? The Canaanites. Are they here?”

                Jared replies, “Caanan? I do not know that place. What is Caanan?”

                Jared pauses. Thinking. Corresponding spiritually. Confiding. Inquiring. He then replies in confidence. “Caanan is of the future. I have no confusion. Confusion is born from the devils. They lie. And no, the descendants of Cain are not here. You speak of Cain, Adams first son? He lost his birthright to Seth. And the Spirit of God is removed afar. They hear the words of devils and practice those thoughts. At Cain’s stronghold, the people do entertain the Watchers. They produce many Nephilim.[4] Or so it appears. They have no mercy. They think like animals. They do not honor the laws of nature, the laws of the universe, or the laws of God. They speak words laced with lies. They never speak truth. They are the most cunning predator on Earth. They follow Fire Eyes. We avoid them.”

                Jared’s passion is reflected in his answers. He stokes the fire again. The embers ascend into the night sky. He continues his description of the land and the people of this generation. He reveals things I’d never known. “Cain took a wife, Awan,[5] his sister. She gave birth to a son. They named him Enoch. Cain set up a camp in the land of Nod. They exploit all who wander there. Even the primitive ones; men and women. Adams first commission. Defiled.”

Eni hands me a piece of cooked meat. It’s pretty tasty. There is a sensation of wildness in the meat. “Cain is nomadic?”

Jared replies, “No. …Cain named his camp Enoch; after his son. They made that their stronghold; their possession. They use stones to make their huts. They learned war from the Watchers. They learned many things from the Watchers. They were all exploited by advanced cunning; the dark arts. They have tents and they have livestock. They have harps and the flute. They have bronze and iron tools. We have stone. We avoid them. We too have been influenced and exploited by the Watchers. But we remain connected to the commission given to Adam. Our bloodline remains pure.”

                I ask, “Why did you name me Enoch? As that is the name of his son. And the name of an evil place established by Cain, and the spawning point for Nephalim.”

                Jared’s countenance changes. This question triggers a strong reply. Nearly a reprimand. “The weapons we have are only stone. Fire Eyes taunts physical war with us. A war we cannot win. He wants to destroy us. Our people. Your people; the lineage of Seth. The bloodline. The commission of Adam. We do not take the bait. We do not fight the war with stone weapons. We fight the war with words. Words from God. For our war is not against the flesh brothers, but against the spiritual wickedness that comes from high places in the heavenly realms.”[6]

                Jared continues, “Enoch. You are dedicated in opposition to Cain’s dedication. Same name? Yes. In resistance to Cain. Same name? On purpose. Your name has an opposing dedication. Chanokh. It means dedicated.”

                “The beginning of our part in the war against our own race; the Runaways. Yes. Our own race. Set apart, they are not sons from Adam. They are as we are. Yet, they take our women. They are the ancient sons of God. Still immortal. Yet they follow Fire Eyes. They have fallen to deception and act evil. They possess the oath from God. Their temptation to use this oath, …it overpowered them. Fire eyes is the instigator. The leader. The cause. The grief and the lie that destroyed Adams future. Adam did not want to leave Eve. He preferred death rather than to be separate from his love, Eve. That sent all of us into mortal degeneration.”

                I ask, “What about Lilith? Myth? Lore? Or truth.”[7]

                No hesitation in Jared’s reply. “Ask Adam. I am not the one to speak of Lillith.”

                The fire pit flames and sparks violently as if an invisible hand added a log of fuel to the fire while Jared continued. “And this is the task of Kesbeel, the chief of the oath, who showed the oath to the Holy ones when he dwelt on high in glory.”

                It appeared as though Jared was falling into a prophetic state of mind as he spoke with his arms raised to thw sky and his eyes fixed on the stars. “And his name is Beqa.” [8] But they have been stricken from God’s Kingdom. They do not possess the name or permission to conjure the oath’s power. They fight to take our kingdom. They have knowledge to create. But they cannot create life. So the exploited sons of God exploit our women to procreate. They procreate in the name of Fire Eyes. They defile and lust after the bloodline. They create horror. That horror we fear as men. The Nephilim are hybrids. Half mortal; from our daughters, and half immortal, from the sons of God. They are of the watchers. They are men like us. Yet with a different commission. They broke the law. So now the Nephilim arise as demons after their flesh dies. You will bear the standard of God’s Kingdom to all who walk on dry ground. Chanokh.”

                In this risen state, Jared turns and looks directly into my eyes. “Cain is cursed. His son as well. You, my son, are dedicated to God, our Creator. Your destiny is defined. Your mission is clear. You will see the wickedness in this world. You will discover the difference between Cainan and Caanan. The battleground of the future. You will challenge the Watchers with words from God, not men. This is your weapon for war. Words. Truth. Bearing the medicine of forgiveness. The mystery of the soul. The words you heard in those six years. God himself will impose the punishment. Not you. Your stone weapons are for self-defense. Not vengeance. Your stone weapons cannot pierce a spirit. Hear the history from Adam himself. I will take you to him. He will give you his torch. And then he will be buried. The first man.”