Date: Sat, 27 Sep 2008 14:32:08 EDT
From: Tommyhawk1@aol.com
Subject: The Spirit Harvest

			    THE SPIRIT HARVEST
			   By Tommyhawk1@AOL.COM
		      WWW.TOMMYHAWKSFANTASYWORLD.COM
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"Spirit?" I called when I got to Spirit's farmhouse. The front door was
open, so he must be around the place somewhere. Spirit's house had once
held a large number of people, mostly hippies from the early 70's, after
they had fled the cities and gone to the farms to attempt to build communes
and with the communes, a new way of life. Well, that hadn't worked out and
now that it was now the early 1980's, only Spirit still lived on the
place. The rest of them had gone back home, back to college, back to lives
that had turned them into stockbrokers and corporate executives and
housewives and college professors. Only Spirit remained on the farm, his
last co-owner, Windflyer, having moved back to Arizona last summer to go
stay with his mother, now in the throes of a long, losing fight with
cancer.

So I got a chance to earn some cash by working on his farm during his
harvest, which is why I was now standing in his front yard, yelling!

"This way, Mist Flower!" Spirit called to me. Okay, that needs some
explaining! I'd grown up around Spirit and seeing how, back then, they'd
all had names they'd given each other or given themselves, at the
precocious age of eight, I had asked Spirit and his friends to give me a
communal name for my visits with them. They'd chosen "Mist Flower." It
sounded a lot better among all those gentle-souled hippies back in 1972
when I was eight than it did now in 1982 when I was eighteen and the
hippies had faded into history and oblivion.

But nobody else was around, so I let it slide and even liked it a bit, a
taste of my uncomplicated childhood, if you see. "Hey, Spirit!" I called as
I got to him. Spirit was sitting in lotus position (legs crossed over each
other, hands with index fingers and thumbs touching on hands laid open on
his knees) in a small cove of meditation he had built, his eyes were closed
and he didn't acknowledge me by looking at me or anything...but I knew I
was welcome. I looked at Spirit, now in his mid-thirties, but still a
fine-looking man now wearing only a wrap around his loins. His body, lean
and muscled from the farm work (Spirit eschewed mechanical aids such as
tractors and mowers, he did all the work himself, by hand), with a
diamond-shaped brush of fur on his chest between his ample pecs and his
arms composed of a melon-shaped shoulder, an orange-shaped bicep and a
cucumber-shaped lower arm. Spirit didn't have a body you'd see on a
magazine or anything...but his body was somehow more real than theirs,
because it wasn't shaped exactly perfect. Very real...and disturbingly
sexual. Hey, this was the man who'd seen me as a buck-toothed
eight-year-old, and who had rubbed my head of hair affectionately, and
given me my communal name. Desiring him was somehow...incorrect.

So I sat carefully apart from him, on a bench he had nearby and looked at
him serene and involved in his meditation, and the morning went on. After
about a half hour, I cleared my throat and said, "Uh, Spirit? We'd better
get started on the fields. You have a lot to gather before the frosts come,
you know."

"All in its time." Spirit said. "All must occur at its designated time, or
the forces of nature are disrupted, and unhappiness results."

"All right." I said and settled back down again. He was paying by the day
for my work, and if he wanted me to sit on my butt and watch him hum softly
to himself (his mantra, that is), that was his decision to make.

The day was turning into a nice one. Not too hot, not too cold, the sun
just warm and pleasant, a few clouds up there to make the sky interesting,
and promising rain but not too soon.

I settled into something of a meditative state myself. I had to make a
decision pretty soon. Did I stay with Dad on the farm or did I head off to
make a life of my own in the city?

I liked the country life, hell, yeah, but it could be awful dull, too,
sometimes. Even most times, working in the fields, riding a tractor. You
could play the radio, but hearing it over the tractor roar was something
less than satisfying. And the songs all sounded alike after a while, they
play the same music over and over, the popular tunes, and you get damned
sick of it. But the only other choice is talk-talk-talk, about stuff I
didn't have much of an opinion on.

Sure, the farm life was in my blood...but was it in my heart?

Something to really meditate on, I reckon.

Softly, barely making a sound, Spirit rose to a standing position, using
only his legs and rising straight up. You can do that if your legs are
strong and your body is trained to stay in perfect balance. Otherwise, you
hurt the hell out of your ankles and can even break them. But Spirit didn't
even falter, just stood upright as soft as a breath of wind and said, "It
is time to go into the field." He paused only to dress in simple
peasant-cloth shirt and pants, and we finally started to work.

Spirit may not use any modern methods, but he spent so much time on his
crops, they looked magnificent. The cornstalks were heavy in heads of corn,
the strawberries were dotted red upon their vines, the cabbages were huge
globes upon nests of spread-out leaves.

"What do we do?" I asked Spirit. "Start at one end of the row and work our
way down, or gather them by kind one at a time?"

Spirit looked scandalized, then smiled. "You have worked upon your father's
field for too long, learned the ways of commerce and raping the land. We
will take only what is ready to be taken."

"Yeah?" I said. "How do we know that?"

"We walk among them, and we listen."

I considered this. "I'd better let you listen and I'll carry the baskets."
I decided.

I tried figuring out how he chose which items to pick and which not to. It
baffled me. He would reach up and pluck a head of corn from the stalk, and
leave the rest. Everything he picked was ripe and such, but I'd point to a
melon or a cabbage, and Spirit would shake his head, always saying, "It is
not the time for it to be harvested."

By mid-afternoon, we had finished, but we had only gathered some fourteen
bushels of different items, mostly of corn. A lot was left in the ground,
like 95% of it!

"Now what?" I asked Spirit when we had put the bushels into his storage
shed. We had three or four more hours to go on my daily schedule with
him. If he said so, I could go home now....

"Now, we celebrate the harvest." Spirit said.

"Oh. Okay." I was disappointed, but only a little, as I think I've already
said, I liked Spirit, he was an long-time friend of mine. If he wanted to
just hang out the rest of the day, I was good with that. "How do we
celebrate?"

"We can go commune with the river." suggested Spirit.

A swim, was what he meant. "Sure!" I said. The weather had gone from
just-right to a bit hot, this might be the last really decent day for
swimming this year. "Only I didn't bring a swimsuit."

"No need, Mist Flower." Spirit assured me. "We will let the waters nourish
our souls and become one with the world."

"Skinny-dipping, huh?" I snickered.

"You have the wrong frame of mind, my Mist Flower." Spirit chided me. "You
cannot discover your position in the universe if you distract your mind
with crassness of society."

"I'm sorry." I said.

As usual, Spirit's forgiveness was immediate and complete. "The mind learns
through errors made and corrected."

At the river bank, I again found myself studying Spirit's body. The way his
body was so right for him, for the life he'd chosen. And when he dove, it
was the simple poetry of a man joining the river. The water simply parted
to let him enter, no splash, no spray, just the man entering the element
and it accepting him. I dove myself, but that was the act of a young man
forcing the water to accept him...not the same, not at all. I didn't just
splash...I splattered!

I saw the way Spirit swam, so easily, so much a part of the water, he was
like a fish. Me, I flailed and slapped and broke the water over and
over. It was humiliating, even if Spirit never seemed to notice it
happening! Why couldn't I have this sense of complete peace and tranquility
Spirit had? Why was I still fighting the world?

Spirit finished his swim and went up onto the bank, and spread himself out
and yawned. I was a good ways across the river as he did that, and by the
time I got all the way over to his side, Spirit had fallen asleep.

God, he had it so easy! I was the one searching for my place in life, the
path I'd take, the choices I'd make, they were all up in front of me, right
in my face! I had to choose, did I say with my father's farm or did I cut
and take off, hope to find something better elsewhere? I had to decide if I
continued my education past my high school diploma. Was I going to be a
doctor, lawyer, Indian chief, rich man, poor man, banker, thief? Where was
I going? What would I do when I got there? Was I even going anywhere? Would
I die some day, having accomplished nothing, done nothing, been nothing?

And there was Spirit, a man who knew just what he wanted and how to do
it. He didn't even pick his crop unless he felt like it. Laugh at the
old-time hippie communes all you want, they were on the track of
something. They didn't make it...but they were aimed in the right
direction, which is more than I could say for myself!

Spirit looked so peaceful, lying there on the shelf of grass next to the
trees. The sun was shining on him, but the shade was already reaching out
to cover him, protect him, like the world moved to his whim. I wanted to be
like Spirit! I wanted to be Spirit! I wanted to...love him.

Well, he was asleep. I could look all I wanted just now. He wouldn't know.

Move around to get a better view of the part he'd kept covered under that
loincloth before. The parts I hadn't dared look at while he was swimming,
for fear he'd see me looking.

But I wasn't afraid to look now. I could let my passions guide me now,
Spirit would not know.

Smooth as an otter, quiet as a snake, I slid up next to Spirit. The grass
grew to the very verge, to the edge of the sharp, bare rock that made the
river's edge. I could stay in the river, submerge if he wakened. I rose up
so easily, gently, that the water didn't make a sound. Softly as a cloud
passes over the sun's face, my own body's shadow slid over the twin orbs of
his buttocks. His legs were too close together to show me any part of his
privates, I felt cheated. A smaller shelf lay just below the river-side
leg. If I could shift it slightly, it would fall over and onto the smaller
lower ledge, and the nexus of his legs would be revealed.

Move with the water, smooth as the mist, I caught his leg, gently moving
it, as if the leg were moving itself, exerting only the pressure that would
cause it to slide on the slope it was already upon, it moved and over and I
had to catch it to keep it from falling, but then it was down, the leg from
the knee down resting now upon the lower ledge, and now his legs were
splayed apart a few feet, and I could look between them.

The purple pucker of his asshole was there, clean, totally unblemished and
unmarked by any toilet-paper dingleberries or imperfect cleansings, the
skin was pure and soft and supple looking.

Below that...I couldn't believe my luck. In some way, he had managed to
push his cock and balls below his body as he lay down, and now they were
ensconced on the grass between his now-opened legs, depending toward his
feet, the full glory of his manhood.

I knew I could only have a moment or so here, soon enough I would need to
move on and away from him, so he wouldn't know I had helped myself to an
unfettered view. But for now, oh, just to be this close to this perfect a
human being (no, not a perfect man, his body wasn't perfect, but it fit
him, oh, it fit him and his life so well!), I wanted to get closer still,
and I dared to poke my face closer to his nether regions, and my nostrils
caught the faint, but pungent whiff of his groin, the concentrated maleness
that boils out of any body there, it can be deep and fetid in the prison of
your briefs, but here, and now, it was like the perfume of an accomplished
woman, enough to awaken the passion without being enough to identify the
fragrance consciously, you didn't know the smell was perfume, it was only
the person, this was like that, this was Spirit, this was him, all of him.

Without knowing myself, I ended up with my nose practically against his
sphincter, and the smell of his testicles bathed my senses; I inhaled, I
sighed, and with my passion in control, I reached up with my tongue and I
gently touched the tip of it to his small wrinkled tuckerhole, and when I
did, it sort of dimpled and constricted, as if beckoning me onward, inward,
come into my dark parlor, and rest upon my silken cushions within, I shall
make thee forget the sunlight, forget the world, forget all but that you
slumber within me.

Oh, God, I wanted him so bad! I closed my eyes and I sighed, such a soft,
soft sound.

And Spirit hummed. Just a sound, not his mantra, not words, just a sort
of...summoning. My dear, gentle-hearted Spirit, only he could speak without
words, communicate without breaking this mood of secret conspiracy. In a
way both nonverbal and undisputed, I knew that I had his permission to
proceed.

My tongue returned and dove into the anus, and it again dimpled, this time
it caught my tonguetip and helped guide it inside. Only a fraction of a
quarter of an inch, but it was a joining just the same.

Spirit keened again, this time a little louder, only a hair, it was still
one with the wind and the leaves of the trees rustling, and the music of
the running water. All of it, one, the world together as a whole, and I was
a part of it. I'd always been a part of it, I just hadn't seen that before,
I was as much a child of this universe as the trees and the grass and the
sky and the river, I was here and nothing I did really changed that. I was
only realizing the way things had always been.

And for that brief time, I was part of Spirit's way of looking at life, and
I knew now how he could tell which of the fruits of his fields to pick and
which to leave behind, for the vegetables that feed us want to feed us,
their gift to us of their bodies is the trade they make for us helping
their seeds to grow as they do. There was no destruction in the harvest,
the fruit was ripe, the stalks were ready, the grains were willing to cast
themselves into the great community of life, knowing that some of them
would be born again into new plants, and the others would be born into a
part of our very selves.

And that simply, Spirit's permission was given to do as I wanted, as I
needed, to do with him. And with this permission came a knowledge that was
older than teachers, for it welled up from within. I knew to use my tongue
to lubricate his anus, I knew to mark his gentle roseate opening with thick
gray pearls of my saliva, until it was festooned with moisture, and then,
to bring more of it onto my own manhood, and when both were coated and
smoothed, I could then place the one to the other and feel the joy as
Spirit's body accepted my tower of virility into itself.

I was unschooled, and yet my body knew what to do, I could gauge from the
way of how it felt when I should pause, when I could proceed, when I should
shove and when I should pull back. With small, kindly steps, my cock slowly
inserted itself into Spirit's asshole, and when I had it firmly within, I
shifted my weight and now I was ready to dance the very dance of life
itself!

The thrust of my hips was no violation, no mangy, vulgar coupling, we were
combining ourselves into a portion of a gigantic machine composed of a
million million parts, and when two of them came together, this was how
they acted upon each other, for the Earth was alive and we were its parts,
and as we moved, so did the world.

Daring everything now, I laid myself upon Spirit's back, my own leg moved
down to the lower ledge to join his, and with the purchase I gained, I
began to hunch into his bowels in earnest. My dick was alive with the
pleasures I was wringing from this, my entire body shivered as the joy
raced up from my glans into all four of my limbs and into my brain, my skin
was contributing every nerve to the carrying of these pulses, and my glory
was unbounded and infinite.

This was the ultimate meaning of life, the joining of two bodies in this
way, done right, it was all the answer to the problems of the universe you
would ever need. I plunged my dong into Spirit's butt and all of it was
glorious, glorious, GLORIOUS!

Spirit's moaning told of his joining me in my delight, he loved the way
that I, his longtime, young friend, was a child no longer, now a man, I was
joining with him as a man, this body which I had clutched once as a child
to protect me, I now held within my own circle of arms to wrest from it my
ecstasy as my body's passion rose in me like the fires in a furnace,
turning my soul fire-red, glowing like a lantern in the darkness, and I was
in the light of day and still I shone as bright as the sun, brighter than
the sky, I was immortal, I was invincible, I was...I was THERE!

"Oh, oh, I'm coming!" I gasped out as my ecstasy consumed me, I could
manage no more words for all my energy, all my sounds, were servants of my
climax, I ejaculated heavily into Spirit's willing body and it was like the
raw energy that had composed the universe was being transmitted, I was but
a conduit for the basic sexual power that flooded my soul and transported
my essence into the very lands of paradise! It lasted only a few seconds,
as with any mortal being, but it was all the time I needed to live, grow
old, and attain the wisdom, within the confines of Valhalla, of the Elysian
Fields, of Heaven!

And with the return of my spirit to Earth once again, I collapsed, my
journey having exhausted me, my glory sinking down, not lost to me, but
rather transmuted into the experiences that I could store and relive again
and again for the rest of my life.

"Ah, my own little Mist Flower." Spirit said as I feebly got off him and
laid on my back further from the river. Spirit did not rise, he simply
turned onto his side and rested a knowing hand upon my still
rising-and-falling chest.

"Oh, man, I can't believe that." I said.

"Believe it." Spirit assured me. "Love is love in any of its forms, you
know that there is no evil in any of it, there can never be evil, which is
the lack of love, so long as love is present."

"Yeah, I know that...now." I said. Still panting, I swallowed hard, and
rose up. "I guess I should get on home now, Mom and Dad will be expecting
me."

"You should go to wherever your home is." Spirit said, and I didn't realize
that he hadn't agreed with me when he said that.

I felt it as I walked the half-mile back to my own farm, in the silence
that was the world, now it wasn't a foreign place to me, I was like Spirit
now, comfortable with myself and with my life and my choices. Oh, I still
had to make choices...but now I knew that they were only choices, with no
change of my essential self weighing in their balance. I could be a
businessman without losing my kind heart, I could travel without betraying
my family and the fields of my childhood.

Yes, I should go to wherever my home is, I thought as I trod my steps up
the house where I'd been raised and where I would sleep before returning to
help Spirit with his harvest once more in the morning. I had finished my
walk.

But I wasn't finishing my journey. Indeed, I was only beginning it.

				  THE END
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