Psalm continued to sit in a state of solemnity and reservation but Morgan had a feeling that it was all leading up to something. His solemnity had an air of imminence. Psalm would soon speak. The next moment it came.
“What do you believe in Morgan?”
“Ummm… ambiguity is the essence of poetry?” Morgan laughed.
“No really, what’s your belief, your philosophy?”
Morgan was taken aback by Psalm’s question. It seemed to him and it was made apparent to all with whom Psalm came into contact that Psalm was a christian, a Congregationalist, devoted, and not much interested in other beliefs.
“Why ask me my philosophy. I have no ties to any organized religion.”
“I’m sorry Psalm, I was just thinking… I guess some sort of watered down form of Taoism is as close as I get to a personal philosophy.”
“Can you be more specific,” Psalm persisted, engaged?
“You know anything about the uncarved block?”
“No, but go on.”
“I just try not to let myself get all carved up… subjective… I… well… I try and face each moment and each experience with the same or at least a similar openness, like when you’re a kid, as objectively as possible… without all kinds of garbage in the way.”
“But who drives you?”
“Well I know who’s driving you, and this truck for that matter,” Morgan said smiling.
Psalm didn’t get it, or didn’t want to, so Morgan returned to the question, in all of its apparent seriousness.
“I listen to something inside of myself, feelings, desires, that sort of thing. I don’t look outside… to find myself or some divine purpose, just to see things. I just do what feels right. Don’t get me wrong, I’m not some kind of nymphomaniac (laughing), my feelings are in my heart not in my…”
“But what about God, and Jesus Christ?” Psalm interrupted.
“I believe in the spirit of both, but of the holy trinity I identify most closely with the holy ghost… that sounded sort of poetic…” Morgan smiled.
“… I have no tangible evidence of a higher power, no one does, I have only what I feel… and I feel full of life, energy, spirit, whatever you want to call it. It’s just there.”
“But it’s God and Jesus Christ who give you that feeling,” Psalm retorted.
“I don’t fully deny either,” pulling a silver crucifix out from under his shirt, “You’re entitled to your opinion, Psalm. I respect what you think and feel…”
The wind was beginning to rise.
“But…” Psalm interrupted but this time Morgan, raising his voice, interrupted back.
“Maybe we should talk about something else.”
“Go on, what do you think, what do you really think about my church?”
“Look Psalm,” Morgan said, regaining his composure, “I think we’re taking this a little too seriously so I’m only going to say one more thing to answer your question and then let’s drop it, okay?… I think your religion is a bit fatalistic… original sin and a fiery hell… come on man… I think we’re born pure and should try to stay that way… belief… words… let’s not argue. We’re friends right?”
The rising wind slowed for a moment. The clouds drifted skyward, and away from the “needle” in the valley.
“Will you go to church with me tonight Morgan?”
“It depends on when we finish unloading…maybe, there’s a good swell and I’d like to catch a couple waves…maybe.”