Are There Angels Among Us?

Today I wish to delve into another realm or perhaps, the topic directly involves life here on planet earth and it is more a question of appearances & perceptions.  Belief might come into play though it doesn't necessarily change the fact that nothing is necessarily how it appears, a great many things just are - whether they are widely accepted as true or not - though on a person to person basis, experience and opinion will no doubt be shaped to provide evidence which will uphold a particular belief - I submit that many (likely infinite realities) exist independent of anyones knowledge or belief. It is the height of arrogance to suggest something doesn't exist, because it can't be explained or proven using existing assessment criteria that more often than not are already biased in their inception to yield a particular conclusion. At the risk of over-simplifying and with all due respect to the lifetimes of education behind those investigating that which I have no awareness of, nor it's significance in day to day living - I will still submit that if before entering into an investigation you are not prepared to find anything but a predetermined variety of results - then though perhaps not conclusive, I believe the chances are highly likely that the end result will be limited by the preexisting expectation.

The previous can be thought of as setting the stage - the story to follow is a true account of a series of events that occurred recently while I was in a town called Mostar (in Bosnia) it neither claims to prove the existence of nor lays claim to a definitive answer to the question posed in the title. All the events described in the story occurred as described the reader will of course draw their own conclusions (as I'm sure it will be argued is the case with me) the difference perhaps is that I, on an ever increasing basis am becoming less inclined to close the door of conclusion on a great many matters. To do so I've discovered in my life - creates a reality which severely limits "what is possible." What of the need to have some sort of base line beliefs etc. well I guess I can say at this point one need be where they're at but it doesn't seem to be of benefit to remain entirely invested in where that is - because at any moment "new information" can become available and suddenly that deeply entrenched way of seeing evaporates like mist upon the vale when warmed by the sun - then what?

So having been in Mostar for a couple of days and experienced a "guided tour" by my host a gentleman that was born and raised in the town and has lived it's history and also becoming familiar enough with the historic old town near my hostel that I now feel compelled to embark upon a self-conducted tour further afield - off I go equipped with two feet and a heartbeat. Now what you should know about me is that contrary to the popular consensus, that men won't ask for direction - I have no qualms about seeking direction, however something breaks down after I have received them i.e. within a few blocks of setting out it's as though I never received them in the first place. Doesn't mean I don't get where I'm going - in fact I always do - it might not be where I was "directed" - but without question I will arrive exactly where I was headed. Often times I will even get to the place originally intended - it just might involve a few (perhaps in the mind of others) unnecessary but nevertheless frequently delightful "side trips."Maps are marginally useful - they do draw my attention to the existence of certain places, but recent experience exploring the labyrinth which exists within the metropolis of Rome showed me that upon "checking in" with the map occasionally after significant meandering - I would discover I was at times 180 degrees in the opposite direction of where I had set out to find. But you know - there is always something beautiful and well worth seeing there too and eventually I see the other attraction (or not - never did see the Pantheon - but I don't feel in anyway as though my experience overall was diminished as a result).

So as I commence on my tour by crossing the bridge across the Neretva River to begin exploring I wander through various parts of the city and am struck by the presence of buildings of modern design some of which house retail outlets which carry fashion apparel and accessories made popular in various other parts of the western world largely through mass - marketing, coveted by many and commanding the high prices which afford those that worship at these altars the prestige the label affords them in a variation of the emperor wears no clothes kind of way i.e. the true appearance of many of these items is obscured by the presence of said label, rendering blind those that seek them and are willing to enslave themselves to possess them. Across the streets and there are the remains of buildings that at one time were representative of a completely different time in history -  left in various stages of collapse having been nearly completely demolished by shelling and mortar fire during the war. Those walls that remain contain majestic archways defiantly demonstrating the strength and integrity of their design as they managed to survive the relentless assault of a war ravaged city. Many homes are abandoned to this day left by their terrorized owners fleeing for their lives - some never found refuge, others became refugees within their borders - others began again (or at least that is the story line of the romantic, how life continues for each of these displaced souls is indeed their story to tell) in foreign lands that opened their borders in a time of need.

As I wandered further and further from the business district of the city I came up a wooded area and could see partially hidden within the remains of what appeared to have been a enormous structure at some time but again it had undergone partial demolition. I was inextricably drawn to explore this site having seen a great many ancient ruins in various countries on my journey I was soon making my way toward my discovery with a mixture of energies that might be said to include adventurer and naiveté one part Indiana Jones the other part Fool on the Hill. I hike in using a winding access road that quickly reveals that the area has seen frequent visitors for whom their main focus is to numb themselves from their existential pain with alcohol - bottles and broken glass are strewn everywhere. After rounding the corner my previous assessment is confirmed as I encounter a group of half a dozen young males sitting around the remains of a concrete foundation smoking, drinking and though speaking a language  inaccessible to me - the visual suggests that the interaction within the group is not unlike any other group of young men - not hard to imagine them engaged in banter over who's football team is the dominant force in the universe or just generally taking turns elevating themselves at the expense of one of the others in the group. I attempt to glean from any of them what the significance of the ruins are I'm approaching - the consensus among them seems to be that no one knows or perhaps no one cares to provide me with the information at any rate I pass largely ignored and unscathed with the exception I'm sure, that someone in the crowd would elevate himself with glorious pseudo-esteem by perhaps making disparaging remarks about my mother or comparing my face to the fertilizing end of some barn animal.

The serpentine road rose higher and higher into the skeletal remains of what once must have been the crowning glory of some architects career (not to mention the artisans that laboured toward its completion) even though much of it had been laid to waste - the remaining portions dirty and adorned with graffiti various sections overgrown as nature began to reclaim the area still speak of it's majesty.  I found lying in the tall grass various what looked like flat paving stones lying around. Closer inspection revealed that they were engraved with names and dates - I began to get a sense that an air of reverence was required though being completely unfamiliar with local tradition or the true significance of my present location - I soon wondered if just being there placed me in violation.

I wandered further into the ruins, upon turning I was taken aback by the realization that though I was unaware of his approach, I now had company and he wasted no time in getting up close and personal. My companion appeared to me to be of local ethnic origin his overall appearance was somewhat disheveled - absent were any of the designer clothes I mentioned earlier in favour of more modest apparel. Overall he appeared to be not so much a man of leisure - I suppose one could say driven hard and put away wet. As I mentioned he was apparently not schooled in the principals of personal space, encroaching upon anything that might be considered neutral territory and as he appeared to be rather agitated as I attempted to digest his verbal assault, I couldn't help but notice a significant number of teeth missing. I would guess his tirade was being delivered in Bosnian (and even if I could get a word in edgewise my "hello" "goodbye" and "thank you" would seem to be woefully inadequate under the circumstances). I asked if he spoke english - he continued his admonishment - punctuated on occasion by gestures of slapping himself on the forehead. I think it valuable to mention I have no judgment of those living on the streets and no fear in their company - but the language barrier and what seemed significant anger did make me wonder where this was going. It carried on long enough that I reasoned if he were going to assault me or rob me he would have done it by now - so I carry on speaking to him in english he carries on speaking to me in Bosnian the whole thing has an air of the surreal to me. At any rate after sometime he leads me by the arm out the roadway opposite to the way I came in - all the while still laying into me. I am relieved to be moving though acutely aware that my friend isn't offering to carry on from whence he came and leave me on my merry way. The road winds around and through the woods down a hill and eventually we have left the area completely and now we're walking through a residential area. A few blocks later we enter a large courtyard of one of the big churches - my escort brings me to a fountain that has on one side a pipe with running water he "suggests" I get a drink - at this point I am becoming more adept at body language - he is somewhat less agitated though he still occasionally looks at me and slaps his forehead and I begin to wonder about the soundness of his mind. Next he leads me to a bench under a trellis which is overgrown with grapevines - he invites me to sit and then joins me on the bench. He then wipes his forehead - points at the sun and with a sweeping gesture of his hand points out that we are now in the shade. My Bosnian language skills are not improving but nonetheless we are beginning to communicate. Oh to be a fly on the wall - he "insists" on speaking Bosnian - I of course respond in english - neither of us understands a word the other is saying yet we are beginning to make some headway. He offers me a cigarette I politely (at least I hope I'm received as such) decline - he shrugs and lights one for himself he sits back about as relaxed as I seen him since we met and though I occasionally wonder what would happen if I were just to get up and leave, somehow  I wasn't inclined to even try, I was somehow really engaged in what was unfolding here (though not entirely sure what that was). Next he digs in his pocket and pulls out a laminated card which was some sort of Bosnian national id - points at the picture and name and them himself and gave the Bosnian Nationality a little extra emphasis by repeatedly pointing at it with his index finger. I pull out my drivers license introduce myself and indicate I'm Canadian - can't say that he seemed particularly moved with that info but he seemed satisfied I was someone from somewhere. He then held the ring finger of his left hand with his right - which I interpreted to be a question as to whether I was married I indicated that I was not and returned the question - to which the response was a corresponding no. So there we sat beneath the grapevines sheltered from the heat of the afternoon Bosnian sun just two single guys - shooting the bull - not a care in the world (or so I'm sure it must have appeared to those strolling through the parking lot one or two of whom passed close enough that I could ask "Anyone speak English - no - well thanks anyway................. right then, it's a beautiful day for a cultural exchange in the church courtyard). Eventually he finished his smoke and stood up motioning for me to follow and I'm now thinking, well of course after all we've been through together, I couldn't possibly leave now! So we go down the block and across the street and he leads me through the door of a tourist information office where he begins to speak rapidly to the women working in the office and again he slapping his forehead. They're all listening intently occasionally turning to look at me and smiling and then returning their attention to my guide and his story. Finally he stops and I begin to speak to the women - beginning with does anyone speak english here. Hallelujah they all do, so I begin to explain that myself and this gentleman have been keeping company for quite sometime this afternoon after we met at the ruins not far from here. I said that at times he seemed to be very upset, that he had been lecturing me (or so it seemed) despite my not understanding a word of it and my inability to get him to understand I didn't understand. One of the woman began to explain what he had told her - apparently he said he found me in the burial grounds of the partisan troops - where I had no business being and if that weren't enough he said that I most certainly should not have gone anywhere in the woods in that area because there could still be land mines throughout and I could blow myself to kingdom come. (I didn't think it appropriate to engage in my trade mark hair splitting by pointing out I wasn't in the woods nor intending on going there). Instead I was overcome by the potential danger that lay so near by to where I had unknowingly wandered and that I had in fact been "saved" by this fellow and that I had at times, wondered about the soundness of his mind (suddenly all the forehead slapping was making sense - the dialogue must have been something like "for God sake how could you be so stupid" - slap, "did you know you could have blown your fool - head off?" - slap etc. In that moment the tables were instantly turned - who's soundness of mind could be in question now? Hmmmmmmm?

I turned to thank my friend and he had vanished - I looked out through the glass door and he was nowhere to be seen I looked at the woman in the office and they just smiled and returned to the work at their desks. I left the office dumbstruck by the afternoons events left with the question "are there angels among us?"