Chapter One: The Morning

PONDERS

This episode of The Wanderer was produced on the stolen lands of the Massachusett and Catawba peoples. If you enjoy today’s episode, consider joining us in making a donation to Land is Life, an Indigenous led non-profit, working to support the rights, self determination, and participation in policy making of Indigenous people all around the world. You can make a donation today by visiting landislife.org/donate, or by clicking on the link in the show notes. Thank you.

 

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SFX: A whistling gust of wind. A soft bird call. Faint fire crackling sounds. 

 

WANDERER 

There are few things more beautiful than the forest at the very moment when morning begins. Andrew is one of them. I’m pressed to think of any others.

 

After the darkness comes a short window of grey, the time when the faeries coat the leaves with their morning dew. 

 

The perfect time to stretch.

 

SFX: Audibly stretches. 

 

WANDERER

To wash the face. 

 

SFX: Water pouring.

 

WANDERER

To warm up some water for the morning cup on the dwindling flames of last night’s fire. You couldn’t speak above a hushed tone if you tried.  And then… the magic. 

 

SFX: Guitar plays gently. 

 

WANDERER

The first beams of light trace over the edge of the horizon, just dipping the tip tops of every tree in an orange glow. Slowly the light drips down from the canopy to the floor below, blessing everything it touches with the promise of being. The air, having had a night to lie still, is crisp and fresh, like a glass of clean water for the lungs. 

 

SFX: A gust of air.

 

WANDERER

And the forest takes in a deep breath, as if to say, “Let the Wander begin.”

 

SFX: Birds chirping.

 

WANDERER

But of course, that’s also the downside of the morning. Well… not a downside of the morning, as much as it is a downside of… me. Morning is always the first trial. When you wander, you move with the sun and the rhythm of the forest, none of which is under your control, or works with whatever schedule your mind has decided to keep. There’s only a small window after the first moments of morning where the forest will let you in. Sometimes it’s a whole minute, other times it’s mere seconds—but if you miss it, you’ll spend the day right where the last Wander left you. I’m ashamed to say that I’ve spent more than one night in the exact same spot. Not because I’m not good at catching the Wander but… 

 

SFX: Melancholy guitar plays.

 

It always starts the same way. You’ve been on a streak. Maybe you’ve wandered every day for a week. And then one morning you miss it. Not for any reason in particular. It’s not a matter of skill or timing or listening more carefully. You just miss it. And that’s that. It wasn’t actually a failure, but now you have nothing but time—time and a mind that won’t stop thinking about it as if it was a failure. So you spend the day tending to the fire and your doubts. But before you sleep you tell yourself it’ll be different in the morning. You’ll catch it this time.

 

But those grey moments before the sunrise turn against you. As the rest of the forest begins to stretch out your mind turns in on itself.

 

THE DEVIL

Alone. Alone. Alone. Alone. What if you just can’t catch the Wander here? What if you’re never able to catch the Wander again, and you’re stuck beneath this tree, alone, for the rest of your miserable life? Alone. Alone. Alone.

 

WANDERER

We’ll… get back to him. The point is the moment of doubt. 

 

SFX: Hopeful guitar. A gust of wind. Forest sounds, chirping. 

 

WANDERER 

Not even morning’s first light and its promise of being can clear it up. And you go to catch the Wander and… miss. Again. 

 

SFX: Guitar fades away.

 

WANDERER

Day two under the same tree, with only a little of the wood you’ve collected on your last Wander to carry you through. And now you’re not sure how long you’ll be stuck here. So you don’t eat. You don’t drink. You can’t waste the resources the forest gives and you can’t take what the forest does not offer on the Wander. To do so is to cut, a fate worse than being stuck. And so you wait.

 

At night your mind turns and turns. Your stomach is hollow, the perfect echo chamber for your anxieties. Eventually you do fall asleep, but when the grey comes again in the morning…

 

THE DEVIL 

Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Is it even worth trying? Are you even worth it? What makes you think he wants you to find him? Sleep. Sleep. Sleep. Sleep.

 

WANDERER: This goes on for a few days, sometimes a week, never in any sort of recognizable pattern, until one morning you wake up, and before you even realize what has happened, you’re in the Wander again.

 

SFX: Confident footsteps, moving swiftly. Birds chirping. A swell of music.

 

WANDERER

Moving through the forest like you’d never stopped. You have some really good days, where the wander carries you deep into the night, and you feel like you’ve made a lot of progress. But that’s… that’s when the Devil is at his strongest…

 

THE DEVIL 

Sunrise. Sunset. Sunrise. Sunset. Sunrise. Sunset. How many more have you got left? What if tomorrow you lose the Wander? What if you’re not actually getting any closer? What if the forest never brings you to him? What if you’ve just been damned to do this forever? Sunrise. Sunset. Sunrise. Sunset. Sunrise. Sunset. 

 

WANDERER 

I’ve told you that the forest gives all who wander challenges to face. This… is not one of them. This is my own challenge. My own mind turned against itself. My doubt. I know that everyone has their own Devil, but there’s something special about mine; not unique, but special. I did something, something I daren’t speak of. I made a mistake. And that voice bowed down to the pool that forms from the carcass of a mistake and drank. Drank until it was as powerful and as full as the rest of my mind. Drank until I couldn’t go a day without hearing it.

 

As best I can tell this isn’t the way a mind is supposed to work. He is a problem, an illness. But, alas, one my magic seems to be powerless to heal. 

 

SFX: Discordant guitar strumming and humming.

 

WANDERER

When I need to stem a body’s bleeding, or set a bone, I pull out my guitar and blend my song with its vibrations into healing bands that bind and make whole. I’ve… I tried once. I had to make a song from scratch. I found it soothing. Like a cool, damp cloth on a burn. But no healing. Not yet. 

 

I hope that maybe someday—when I’m done wandering, once I’ve found Andrew and we’ve gotten out of this forest—maybe that will be the thing that will finally drain his power. Or maybe I’ll need to go in search of someone who can teach me a new song. To be honest, I try not to think too hard about what that’s going to look like. He’s an illness, a problem. But a problem I can live with. I can get from day to day and… he only sometimes hinders my wandering. 

 

So long as I live with that mistake, I live with my Devil. Always a reminder of what I’ve done and who I’ve lost. Sometimes I think even after I’m not living with that mistake, he’ll still be there. And so, most of my day is spent hoping he doesn’t come around, or at least, hoping I can fend him off when he does.

 

THE DEVIL 

Fend. Fend. Fend. Fend. Fend. You think you can fend me off? I am always here, always by your side, ‘till the bitter end. Fend. Fend. Fend.

 

WANDERER 

I try not to think on it too much. And… I try not to speak out loud to you. Would you please return to my mind?

 

THE DEVIL

Mind. Mind. Isn’t this all just in your mind? Isn’t the shadow just a series of shadows you perceive? Isn’t my voice just a thing you hear? Are you even here, or are you all just in your mind? Mind. Mind.

 

WANDERER

Ah, you’ve gone metaphysical. You haven’t actually got any grip on me. That’s always your last-ditch resort and the easiest to get by.

 

THE DEVIL

Last. Last. Last. Last. How long do you think this little streak of yours will last? It’s been a couple of good days now. Can’t you feel that pendulum on the edge of its swing, just about to break and send you sailing right back into my arms, like last time, and the time before that, and the time before that, and the time before that…?

 

WANDERER

No. No, no, no. Not today. Not this morning. I slept well. I can feel the forest ready to take its first breath. I’ll catch it today and there is nothing you can say to hold me back. 

 

SFX: A sharp bird chirping.

 

WANDERER

And sometimes that’s it. Sometimes I stand my ground and he disappears, without a fight. I’ve gotten… better at dealing with the Devil in the morning. There are little things I can do, so long as it’s not one of those days where I just miss the Wander, that let me hold him back. I’m better off if I start my morning with a couple sips of cool water. I’m better off if I can eat a small nibble and stretch out my limbs. And most of all, I’m better off if I can see all of my goals ahead of me, if I can think about the process. Water, food, stretch, breathe, prepare, listen, catch the Wander, Wander, Wander, Wander, find the place where the Forest wants me to rest, eat the food the Forest has given to me, build a fire with the kindling I’ve collected, sing myself to sleep, wake up, repeat, water food stretch breathe, listen, Wander, rest, wake up, water food stretch breathe, Wander, rest, wake up, water food stretch breathe, Wander, rest, wake, Wander, wake, Wander, wake, Wander, and eventually, Andrew. Like a song all its own I see the path before me, and I see what lies at the end. If I can focus on that, if I can hold onto that, the Devil tends to be… manageable. 

 

Of course, the forest doesn’t let you stick to such a song. It wants to throw in its own verse, and the Devil feeds off that in turn. But the morning isn’t The Forest’s challenge. It’s mine.

 

SFX: Birds chirping.

 

WANDERER

You start with your own breathing. Match the rhythm of the breeze that carves the canopy, the birds and bugs chirping in set intervals, feel the subtle pulse rising up from the ground beneath you. To wander is to dance with the Forest; but the Forest isn’t just the partner, she is the music, she is the style, she is the rhythm, she is the ancient steps and movements that have only been passed down from one dancer to another. She teaches you to dance the dance she invented, to the music she’s singing, in a tonal system she thought up one night as it pleased her. You breathe, and you listen, and you wait for your place, your first step, the call to…

 

FOREST

WANDER!

 

SFX: Guitar and melody pick up and swell.

 

THE WANDERER (singing)

 

Morning Glory

Painter of the east

Morning Glory

Guide our lives to peace

 

Morning Glory

Sparrow singing true

Morning Glory

Show us what to do

 

Morning Glory

Air crisp and sweet

Morning Glory

Born of night’s defeat

 

Morning Glory

Teach us to forgive

Morning Glory

Guide us how to live

 

Morning Glory

Sparrow singing true

Morning Glory

Show us what to do

 

Morning Glory

Painter of the east

Morning Glory

Guide our lives to peace

Guide our lives to peace

 

SFX: Gust of wind and increased tempo of the music.

 

PRODUCER

The Voice of The Wanderer is T.H. Ponders. The Voice of The Forest is Jeanette Berry. The Wanderer is written and sound designed by T.H. Ponders. Produced by Jordan Stillman. Show art and design is by V Silverman. Additional art by Olivia Li.

 

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Our special thanks goes out to Sean Howard, Russ More, Christina Orlando, Elka Carl, Jeff Van Dreason, and Chad Ellis. 

 

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Lauren says the thing that is giving her hope right now has been her sister, who she has developed an even deeper friendship with over the last year, and Jeff says it’s his daughter’s curiosity and bright approach to the world.

 

We want to hear what’s giving you hope right now. Head over to Apple Podcasts or Podchaser, and leave a review! Tell us what gives you hope and we may just read it out on the show! 

 

Please stay safe, and thank you for wandering with us.

 

SFX: Music continues.