May 11th
The unstoppable rain cut the trees like razors. The grass and foliage drowned, forcing the earth to crater. Diego felt purified on his first day in Lacandona. The water had a way of silencing. It reminded him of the snow in Boston, where Diego spent five years studying the complexity of spoken language. Like water breaking a dam, he realized, that in order to understand language he needed to expand beyond the spoken word. Listen to what can’t be said.
He walked through the jungle’s trails. Like veins, he thought. Diego looked at his map, only to see the droplets erasing his path. He felt the rain on his nose and hands. He was losing hope of finding what he came looking for. About to give up, Diego heard rushing water in the distance. He remembered his map was leading him to a river. With no options left, he followed the sound. He followed the sound for what felt like months. The rain ceased and the sun shone, revealing an orange tent.
The shaman, he thought.
The smell of burning wood, evidence that someone was there. A women robed in green emerged. She held a vessel with water to put out the fire. As the last of the smoke rose, Diego approached her and tried to say hello. She grabbed his hands, looked at him, and he knew he had arrived. There was no need for words.
June 3rd
His body was weak, yet the soreness felt rewarding. He had been working with the shaman for a month. Diego had learned how to speak without speaking. He had spent a day with the trees, a night with the stars, and another with the sun. Other days he spent them with himself listening to his thoughts, observing how words drift to ····
June 4th
Reflected in the vessel, Diego saw himself. He saw the jungle. The same gaze that had welcomed him said goodbye. It was time to drink what would erase the boundaries of the spoken word. He lifted the cup to his lips. The cold clay merged with his tongue. He inhaled the smell of rain. The first sip felt like a waterfall running down his throat. The liquid hit his stomach, absorbed into his bloodstream. His eyes closed and he fell paralyzed on the ground, losing control of his limbs, the way branches sway when the wind sings. The shaman gently touched his forehead to make sure Diego was following the right trail. She left the tent and vanished into the jungle.
Vines wrapped around his body, he felt the pulse of the jungle speaking to him. He surrendered not only his body but his mind in order to understand the language of unspoken truths.
June 5th
With the first light, Diego opened his eyes. He looked for the shaman, but she was long gone. It took a while for him to get used to his new eyes. He was greeted by the sun, the stars, and the trees. Now, he understood. He was able to speak, but there was no need to.
On his hand, he felt a drop of water. He looked up and rain began to fall.