Archive for the ‘Short Stories’ Category

Posted on May 1, 2010 - by the raijin admirer

Short Stories Index

Posted on March 8, 2010 - by the raijin admirer

How the Earth Became a Mother

In the beginning, there was no Moon, and the Earth had no order. It hovered around the Sun with no rhythm; no song. Because the Earth was lonely Father Sun could do nothing but watch. The Earth was erratic, frantic like a child bored by solitude, one day spinning out of control, the next day at a standstill staring out into space; pining and yearning.
All the Grand-Fathers, the God-Heads of all the Elemental Spirits, of Plants, Animals and Men could not settle and cast their seeds; or create bodies in which to breathe in their own Nature. They tried in vain to give life to the different races of beings on the Earth, but their Grandchildren could not live long away from their Water-Holes for Nature, their Mother, had no Law; no Rhythm, and was simply too dangerous and immature to depend on.

It was then that Grandfather Owl-Man: the watcher in the night; the wise one decided that he must see the Great Father in the Sky and offer his thoughts and a solution. He traveled to the Sun, where the Great Father sits in watch, and requested an audience, where he suggested that his friend the Fire-Bird would fly out into the Cosmos and visit other Galaxies and Universes where she could find a planet willing to return with him and become Earth’s companion.

And so it was decreed, that the Phoenix, the most beautiful of the Bird-Clan, would fly out into the black sky and find a companion for Mother Earth.

Everywhere he went and asked, but all the Planets had a home in their own Universe, and none was willing to leave and live far away. Phoenix was sad, because she was failing in her task, and she roamed the sky, afraid to return until he had had another bright idea to replace the first one. The Earth was big, and her Nature was to yield, and so the Fire-Bird thought that she could easily give a part of herself and give birth. Not only would she then have company, but then she would also blossom fully into her adulthood.

And so the Phoenix searched the sky for a life-giving stone, that class of stone that floats across the sky waiting for its opportunity to fertilize, and bring with it the designs of the Creator. Soon Phoenix had spotted one in the distance and reaching over she grabbed a hold of it and flew with such great speed towards the Earth that it burst into flames as it traveled across the sky. The heat was intense, it was consuming the Phoenix, and upon finally reaching its aim the Fire-Bird could not find the strength to let go, crashing into the Earth with such an impact that it was destroyed and the rock broken into 10 thousand pieces. The Great Stone from the Sky had been scattered all over the surface of the earth, only to be buried by the dust and ashes as they settled again and allowed light to return to Earth. So much dust had been raised that it had made night for many months. Yet when the dust settled there she was, the Moon, daughter of the Earth, floating around her mother in an eternal embrace. The earth was so happy with the moon that to this day it dances, circling round and round her daughter. The birth of the Moon had brought the great lessons of Motherhood to the earth.

From that moment on all the God-Heads were able to bring life to their own species, molding them from the mud and water around the Waterholes and slowly the grey earth became green and teeming with life.

But all was not right. Phoenix had died bringing the seed to Earth, and was now no more. Although happy to finally be expressed on the land and seas, all the Gods still mourned the loss, and once again Owl-Man took it upon himself to visit the Great Father in the Sun, Who recognizing the two Heroes; Phoenix in the forefront, and Owl-Man behind the scenes, decided to reward them manifold.

From the fiery eruption of a Volcano in the middle of the East-Ocean he brought the Phoenix back to life, conceding her eternal life, for now and ever, in the most beautiful of Dances of all. Whenever a species became extinct, Phoenix would thrust herself into the Volcano and let her body be consumed by the fire, so that she could in Spirit guide the Soul of the God-Head towards the House of the Father, where it could again be re-united with the Source. With the last being of its species the God-Head dies, and is led by the Fire-Bird home. When it returns Phoenix brings back a new God-Head, who will begin work to bring its species to existence upon this Earth. Phoenix is then reborn from the Volcano to again grace the inhabitants of this planet with her visits. She is present in every self sacrifice that takes place.

To Owl-Man, the all seeing wise one that blends into the background the Maker gave the invisible golden touch of intuition and seeing beyond. Away from prying eyes, when Owl-Man comes to Earth to whisper in the ears, or be present in the dreams of one of his children, he rests on the mythical Tree of Life, which turns gold until he leaves again. Many people have searched for Owl-Man throughout the Centuries here at Guanjama, and some claim to have glimpsed the God-Head sitting on the Golden Tree, shrouded in a thick white mist that only allows a fleeting glimpse before it once again veils the miracle.

And still today, everywhere in the world, hidden within the earth, one can still find pieces of that first seed that crashed into the Earth and gave birth to the Moon. Broken pieces of eternal beauty, that if found, bestow the greatest of blessings upon they who found them.

Posted on March 27, 2010 - by the raijin admirer

Third Eye and the Elephant’s Head

On the other side of the world, in a remote area untroubled by western civilization, lies a village hidden deep within a sacred valley. It is an ancient village. A village that has surpassed the test of time and progress; protected by distance and a cultural inheritance steeped in religious zeal. To this village nega was borne, and in it he was raised.

One evening during sunset, at a time when nega was becoming of age, he decided to walk alone to a nearby mountain so he could sit and think, without disruption upon what he knew was coming his way. You see, since nega was becoming a man, and in accordance to the old customs of his people, his parents had taken it upon themselves to devise and arrange all the necessary plans for his place and social future in the village.

Nega was nervous for he was expected to soon marry a stranger and begin his own family. This was what the ancestors expected of him, he was told. He was to perpetuate the customs passed down for countless centuries in this way.

But lately he had been dreaming compulsively about flying with the birds, in an open sky, undeterred by the trappings below. This upset him greatly for whenever his dreams were recurring he took it as a sign, and nega knew all too well that these kinds of signs had always brought with them inevitable changes upon his life.

And so they did this time. Not long passed before nega no longer lived in that village. After much consideration, he had forsaken his position as a villager, had renounced his work and the prospects of beginning his own family. In this way he had turned his back on the life he had known until then, and on everything he had been taught since his infancy.

His parents did not take his choice kindly and disowned him, telling him that if he could not abide by the rules of their village then he could not be one of them. Nega could only agree, for he was surely not like them, nor had he ever been like them.

He told his parents that he did love them very much but that he had always felt like a distant stranger that did not belong there in the village. He told them he believed that no one in that village could help him find who he really was; where he really belonged, and that was why he had decided to take to the road until he found his real self and his destined place in this world; he had to leave to find himself.

He walked for a long time, each step taking him away from his old self and experience, and with each new step a greater calmness of mind began to come over him. He ate whatever the land had to offer along his way and slept wherever there was cover.

Seven years into his journey nega came upon an open fruit field. He decided to sit under the shade of a large but low fruit tree and there, under that majestic tree, he found the most beautiful plant he had ever seen. So impressed was he that he sat there by the plant for the whole day admiring its beauty, and when darkness came, nega stood up and picked fire wood so he could bring light to the area and admire the plant throughout the night. He sat there throughout the night in a trance-like state, wrapped in a deep sense of peace and tranquility.

Nega came to the conclusion that his calling in life was a truly simple and humble one: to observe the beautiful plant and grow with it, possibly even die with it, and so he dedicated his life to the plant. Nega had given himself away; sacrificed his ego. Living around the plant he tended and focused on it with a fiery and intense intent. He was only alive to care for this plant. This attitude and dedication led him to the shedding of all his old preconceptions and habits. In this way he achieved the awareness of self that he had been searching for all along, and with time nega came to feel perfectly in tune with the plant. He became wholly a part of the natural world.

The seasons flowed on and nega continued with his fervent devotion; he was whole and happy this way. But then one day, as he lay asleep on the ground beside the plant he had a dream that shook the foundations of his whole reality.

He dreamt that an elephant had strolled by, had stepped on and killed the plant of his devotion. In his dream nega ran after the elephant still in awe and disbelief that such a thing could have happened and amidst tears had asked the elephant how he could have done such a thing. And the elephant answered with that melancholy and detachment inherent in all animals that this was only a plant he had trod on, nothing more, and nothing less. Teary-eyed nega then stated to the elephant that the plant had been everything to him and now that it was gone, he had been left with nothing, empty and without purpose.

At witnessing such a great sadness at the loss, the elephant stopped in his tracks and spoke in a deep and mysterious voice.

-“If this plant was everything to you because you had given yourself to it, then I will give myself to you in payment for my wrongdoing, to do whatever is at your bidding, natural or not to my animal instinct. This is all I can do for you”

Not desiring any other thing but his plant back, the disheartened nega turned away from the elephant and lay on the ground, and amidst tears in his dream he went to sleep.

Surely enough, as nega awoke and looked to where the plant had always been; the elephant was laying there. Nega sighed; this was it; it was destined to end; everything is destined to change, and so he walked towards the elephant and sat on its neck. In this way he acknowledged his position; to become the Head of the Elephant. The elephant rose to its feet and began its walk, and for the last time nega closed his eyes in grief and mourning for the beloved plant; vowing to never open them again, for he believed that he could never again witness beauty without being reminded of the plant of his devotion.

And so it was, the elephant guided and nega went with, now blind to the world. When nega was hungry the elephant would pick plants and fruit with its trunk and out the in nega’s hands. When nega was tired the elephant would stop somewhere in a quiet shade so that he could rest. In this way they made a life together.

With the passing of the years, nega’s hearing began to develop acutely and he began to hear the music that permeates all life mixed in with the sounds of the outer world; the songs of the souls. This music began to become more audible as nega and the elephant continued on their path until eventually that was all that could be heard. Soon enough the music had opened nega’s mind’s eye to an amazing new world, and he could again see.

But this time he saw beyond. The music was the elephant’s body moving along life; it was the movement of life, and he was the elephant’s head, the illumined mind that could perceive the music; the listener for higher purposes.

Posted on March 25, 2010 - by the raijin admirer

Hema and the Dome

The dome above glistened in the summer sun, creating the illusion that the city was trapped in a bubble that was about to burst. It was an unwelcome illusion to the inhabitants, for it made them feel uncomfortable with the notion that with a simple crack in the surface would mean the end of life as they knew it, and herald a new dawn; an age of destruction at the grip of the wild. It was a common belief: if the toxic outside world could invade the inner dome, it would surely kill everyone that lived inside. It was not uncommon to hear people uttering remarking on that ensuing menace, and cursing the planet for its unwelcoming nature. It was a notion that had become part of the collective unconscious; that the outside world was a dangerous and terrifying one, full of sinister and horrible things, making all the inhabitants live in fear that one day the safe haven the dome provided would finally be corrupted and invaded, and crack under the pressure of the evil darkness outside.

But there was one individual who did not agree with that underlying belief. His was a different reasoning. Hema was what we call a contrary; one of those rare individuals who go against the grain, not as a statement of their own original outlook, but because of a hidden and unknown drive from deep within. Contrary to popular opinion he had always loved that shine on the dome. It had always been beautiful to him, and yet he had never known the reason. Even as a child he had already entertained the idea of a naked city, in touch with the air and sun outside. This had made him feel eerily separate from the others, alone, withdrawn and out of place, but at the same time safe, and part of something bigger than the controlled, predictable and boring world of man and social order.

This; amongst other thoughts and fantasies, Hema had always kept concealed in his own mind; because he instinctively knew that if others were to find out about his beliefs, they would make him an outsider and a scapegoat. And it was because of this tendency, to think apart from the norm, and outside the box, that he had chosen to become a courier, conducting the trains that transported goods between cities.

This was a lowly and unwanted menial job. Only those of ill repute worked the locomotives that crossed the continent. Prisoners, outcasts and people with slight mental disorders were the usual drivers. The only pre-requisite was that they were physically able and moderately smart. The pay was bad, and the job dull; the conductor a sole passenger, present only to overlook mechanized procedures and make sure that everything ran according to a very uninteresting program.

A normal work-day consisted mainly of sitting back on the conductor’s seat and watching the scenery roll by, seeing that the transport train was a fully automated machine, making the conductor a spare; a backup brain, only necessary to think his way around any unexpected problems the on-board computers weren’t programmed to resolve.

In those days a city was somewhat of a conglomerate company, designed as a residential work-place, mostly self-sufficient and specialized on the manufacture of a specific trade good. Each city was encapsulated in a shell that protected it from the outside world, and kept it separate from the rhythms and laws of nature that reigned beyond it.

In the distant past, in a historical age the average inhabitant had little or no knowledge about, the planetary council had decided that the environment was becoming hazardous to human survival. The air was becoming too polluted, the sun’s rays lethal, the seasons confused, and naturals disasters common.

Soon after the company-cities began sprouting and springing up like gigantic machines coming to life.

When the first domes were placed around the major cities of the globe, a re-structuring of the relation between city and man had to follow. A new definition for man’s so called natural environment soon developed and there was a global shift in awareness, in which the relation between earth and man was severed, leading humanity away from the teaching and guiding aspects of nature. Soon the myriad of forms in which animals presented themselves as our brethren was dissipating as echoes of a fading myth; lore of another time.

At first there was some resistance by the part of the citizens of the new dome-cities. A resistance towards the novel laws and rules that bound what was before known as free behavior. Work was limited within the compounds of the city, by the city, to and for the city. From this a new social order evolved, a new maxim: No individual was to consider himself above the whole; every one that resided in the city was privileged to be there and gain from its abundance, and so must repay in selfless dedication to their provider in return. Slowly and gradually the citizens were repressed to such an extent that creative individuality went missing in face of the ensuing drone of advertising, uniformity and education.

Eventually the Org was built within each city, in which power of ruling was bestowed upon the select few who excelled in proving their science of The Way to their fellow citizens. The way was the doctrine of correct participation in city life; the Golden Rules of the age.

In order to monitor the ongoing progress of each member of the company, the Org established the super surveillance plan. This plan was run into a central computer which gathered and analyzed all data received into a program named the blueprint of society curriculum. This was a system to which all of the citizens were conscripted at birth by implant of a microchip into the body. This chip served both as a tracking device and a registering unit to the Org.

So hema, as every other person in the city was unknowingly imprisoned by society, to the point that, with time, the Way and the Golden Rules had become a prison. All were expected to follow what the headmen thought best. They would concoct fashions for all to grasp for, and develop tendencies to be embraced by the populace. Ways to look, move, act, think, speak. Ways to feel. Ways to like and dislike. Ways after ways. Innumerous ways to keep the minds occupied on a superficial level. And in this way the org succeeded in obscuring the creative individuality borne to man.

Yet this was not the case with hema. For reasons unknown to him he instinctively disliked the org and the drone. He did not relate to the way as they had defined it, but he felt too weak to pick up a weapon and crack the dome open, as his fantasies asked him to do. So he did as they all did and walked the streets anonymous between the featureless faces, with only his fantasies and dreams to shield him from the tireless drone.

And one day, at work driving on the tracks something unexpected happened. The radar alarm began to flash on the console, signaling that an obstruction lay on the tracks ahead. Hema activated the breaking system and began to slow the train down, and not too far ahead the train came to a halt. Hema peered through the window nervously, in anticipation of some great matchless obstacle laying ahead, but as he saw the injured deer that had collapsed on the tracks, his heart jumped with a strange kind of joy unknown to him to that day.

-“My brethren”, were the first two words to cross his mind, and behind them a reminiscent flow of imagery from a long lost past amongst the animals. The sight had awoken a dormant vision that lay embedded in his genes, waiting for this precise moment to rise and echo through every part of his being. It was his soul calling from all around that he was feeling, and inspired hema decided to descend from the train to have a closer look at the wounded animal.

In his fervent excitement and curiosity he overlooked the safety instructions that hung on the cabin. They warned that all who exit the train outside the city must wear a protective mask. In big red letters it was clearly stated that the air outside was toxic, but hema, who had read these instructions so many times in previous trajectories, simply forgot them at this time.

He stepped down from the train and took a few steps before he paused, frozen still by astonishment, in awe at this unexpected sight. Everything was so beautiful. To the west he could see a great expanse of mountains, whose snows melted into rivulets that cascaded down crevasses, diving distances into the enormous watershed that bathed the coast where hema and the train stood at a halt. To the east lay the plains, stretching to the horizon swallowing the setting sun. As far as the eye could see, were waves after waves of low green and brown hills. Earth and grass hooded a ground speckled by trees of many families, all the way to the end of one’s sight.

“Breathtaking”, he thought to himself, remembering that he was not supposed to be mask-less, but the air was strangely fresh and pleasing to the lungs.

Something then clicked within him, leaving hema with the certainty that all those years spent in the city, thinking that there was something wrong with him because he could not accept the way of the Org, thinking that there was something bad about him because he did not identify with his peers; that all those years of doubt and low self-esteem were due to the great lie everyone had been conditioned with.

The great lie was the notion that man should be separated from the natural world when the opposite now was evident. The air was perfectly good to breathe and the outside was not a horrid wilderness, nor kingdom of death and chaos, but a beautiful place that mirrored a harmony drawn by the same greater hand that had drawn man into existence.

His eyes glistened with new found compassion and sympathy for himself, since he now understood why it was that he had felt such inner antagonism throughout his past. There was something for which he had no name, which resided inside of him, that had been speaking to him all this time, saying the very same things that he now knew instinctively. Hema had not been able to hear them for he did not know the language in which they spoke, he had never seen them written and had never learnt how they looked. Now he knew. It was the language of the world. It had been echoing inside of him since birth and he had not been able to hear or recognize it. This had made him revolted, feeling within something unexpressed and untold.

He walked towards the fallen deer and as he drew closer he fell in love with its beauty. “This being is just like me”, he thought, “It has two eyes and a head, ears and mouth, four limbs, it breathes, has hair, sexual organs, it is just like me.” Feeling sorry that he had never learnt about the animals, never seen pictures or drawings, he cursed his educators. How could they have left something so sublime out of his education? It was surely not of importance to them. Surely not something the Org held in high regard.

Arriving at the deer hema noticed it had a broken leg and proceeded to use what he had learnt in school about basic medical care to improvise a pallet and bandage the leg. As he did so the deer did not budge for it was not scared, which impressed hema who wondered if the animal knew that he was helping it. As he wondered this he looked briefly into the deer’s eyes and saw the answer to his question. There he saw a silent knowing that he had never seen in the eyes people. He picked up the deer in his arms and carried it away from the tracks to lay it on the grass. With a smile he then returned to the train, and as he reactivated the machine, he swore to never forget that place and what he had felt there.

The train rolled on leading hema away from the deer and the moment that had changed his life.

At nightfall the train arrived at its destination. Hema descended from the train and walked into the company-city. He made his way to a bar, where he had planned to meet a friend he had made in a previous visit, wondering if he should share the experience or if it would be bad for him to speak up against the lie. “I cannot hide the truth or tell a lie well”, he thought to himself, so he decided to tell his friend about what had happened to him, and what he had learnt from it, but instead of recognizing hema’s words as a revelation of a consciousness inherent in all of us, his friend turned to hema with a strange glare in his eyes and advised him to never again utter those words to any living person, for they were irrational and incomprehensible, and worse of all: wrong.

Hema was not too surprised for he had sensed it may be so. So he led the conversation to more mundane topics, and soon his friend had forgotten all about the deer and the outside world. But hema had not. He could not, the impression it had made on him was too strong, and he truly believed in the essence of what he had felt.

Later, on his return to his home city, hema began to wonder if it was possible that there were people out there in the wilderness living within nature, away from the city. It was a prospect that had begun to appeal to him.

The train whizzed from departure to destination in a split second for hema was not aware of the time in his daydreaming, and when he arrived home, he was surprised to be there, for it did not feel natural to be there. And yet he decided to proceed as he used to, walking the nameless streets, between the nameless faces, as an aimless citizen of the city, until a better idea came to him about how to handle this new dawn in his life.

He went home and logged on to the information network at his home terminal. Once online he searched for any information on animals. The resulting return of information was not very impressive at first, there was not much choice, but amongst the few results there was one that caught his eye. It was an encyclopedia on beasts of lore from ancient times. He downloaded that information, and as it was being transferred page by page he began reading the outcome. Soon night had fallen over the dome and hema still remained facing the screen.

He had only read about half of the download and already he could feel a new found resonance within. As he continued to read all this new and amazing data, he sensed that every part of his being, from the core to each and every cell, rejoiced at the sensation of homecoming. He was changing from the inside out.

That night the first of the dreams came. An animal he had never before seen appeared before him. He was standing somewhere outside the dome in the middle of a field surrounded by trees. Hema had never been in a place like that before. He did not realize it at the time but he was a plant in his dream; a plant that was staring at an animal that was about to eat it. The animal approached and opened its mouth to grab a hold of him, yet hema did not feel fear. He felt at peace, a strange kind of peace; a belonging; like the comfortable warmth and coziness one feels in the womb, without preoccupation, unaware of danger in what comes. So the animal ate him, and immediately hema’s consciousness became that of the animal itself, becoming the animal, walking on all fours, eating away and bathing under the sun. Yet soon this new awareness was to change for he was attacked by yet another animal that surprised him in his sleep and quickly subdued him into what was to be the slow exhaustion of his life. He was being held by the neck and choked by a beast with sharp fangs and beautiful eyes. At first he struggled, but quickly gave in and before long he was that animal too, running alongside more like him through the brush.

Like this his dream continued, through endless transformations, giving him a real taste of the change that is in everything. The number of mutations of body and experience he went through in that one dream were astounding, flowing from plant to animal life in cycles both short and dilated, which eventually led him to his first human life and with it the first great shock. There was human emotion in his dream now and some of it was not pleasant; there was both joy and pain, complicated emotions that depend on so much experience and mental elaboration. He experienced things unavailable to him until then. That death gives birth to life and the interconnectedness of all things was now evident to him. He was actually learning of the path that led to his present self; his lineage through time and space. But at the time he could not comprehend all this consciously, for the concept was too big for his perspective at the time; the doors to this perception were yielding but not fully open yet.

When the next morning light first awoke hema, he smiled, feeling like an accomplice to a secret inside joke. He felt good, as if life’s mystery had shown him a piece of itself as a gift and proof of its loving guidance and eternal presence. Now positively faithful that this was no freak occurrence, the presence of the Org in his life could no longer upset him. With that new found peace came the awakening of his imagination, and the dreams started to flow.

At first they were confusing visions; more of a visionary assault than anything else, but slowly the imagery commenced to settle and the dreams began to make sense. And in these dreams he always met new animal guides outside the dome. He was being led by the other spirits of the earth, nurtured by his real brethren, being introduced to a concept foreign to those of his time, to the transcendence of soul.

Everyday this happened until one final night. Hema lay on his bed; dreaming, and that night hema dreamt that he was sleeping against what he thought was a rock and had woken up. He shook his arms and stretched against it. Then looking to his right hema noticed that it was not a rock he was leaning against, for what he saw was a huge animal head facing him with its eyes closed. Hema could see the long neck he was sitting against and looking to the other side he saw an enormous body, almost too big to fathom. He had never met such a majestic animal in his dreams for he had never before met a Dragon.

He was terrified and frozen in place. The Dragon opened one eye and stared curiously at hema. Neither moved for what seemed to be an eternity; all the while hema feeling something strange and different happening within. It seemed to him as if the Dragon was grinning, but he was too scared to even smile back. And then suddenly the Dragon opened his huge mouth in a yawn that sent a shiver down hema’s spine. With this came the realization that fear was worthless, and that he should never accept it within. If the dragon was to kill and eat him, so be it. As long he lived with heart, knowing that he was doing his best, it did not matter if he was killed; he would simply return in a new form to continue where he had left off. At which point hema summed up his courage and hailed the Dragon, apologizing for having used him as a head-rest, and offering himself as his meal. The Dragon smiled and responded in a deep and soft voice. “I cannot eat you for I am yours; you have conquered me, and can do with me as you will.”

“How did I conquer you?” hema asked, “I do not remember ever even meeting you…” To this the Dragon answered that he had been inside hema since his birth and that he was the embodiment of all the adversity and challenges hema had been born to surmount. He was also that unacknowledged and misunderstood energy; the fear of the unknown; the terror and loneliness within; and one’s personal prison. Slaying him would set hema free from all ambiguity in his earthly life, riding away on his back would deliver hema from this life altogether, and take him to his resting place, to the home above.

The Dragon told hema that before birth, those above; his spirit family that watches over, and hema’s spirit had together decided to send hema unawares into this incarnation, in a day and age that was completely unaware of the soul,  so that he could find it for himself and conquer the experience and right to ride the Dragons wings unto the next life, to then continue in the path of self-discovery and remembrance of the ultimate reality, and fulfill his mission.

Hema was slightly confused and could not entirely grasp what was meant, but his soul understood, and the words felt right in his heart.

-“So be it”, he said. With this the Dragon let him know that he would not wake up as hema again, and that he would fly with him into the next life. No more dome, no more ignorance of the beauty of nature, and no more Org for hema…

Posted on March 28, 2010 - by the raijin admirer

The Old Fisherman

There was once an old fisherman

Who sat in his little boat,

Out in the coast of some far away country.

As the waves beat against his little boat

They did so with rhythm and song.

This the old fisherman could hear.

Seldom do the elements discover

That there are those who are listening,

For there are few who look, but fewer who hear.

The old man had a keen ear for such things,

He was schooled in the ways of life,

And while he listened to the waves he chuckled,

For the water reminded him of the joyous laughter

of the children in his village.

But then suddenly the waters stopped singing and playing along,

And there was a great silence.

For now a greater power was communicating through them,

It was the one that the old man called the Overall.

“I’ve known you forever” – said the old man, -

“In my childhood I wondered about you.

In my adolescence I came to respect you.

In my manhood I believed in you.

In my old age I see your manifest destiny.”

“I think you are beautiful and I thank you,

I am yours.”

There was silence…

And then there were these words:

“I am yours.”

The old fisherman had fallen asleep in his boat.

The sun was sinking over the horizon.

He rowed back to shore knowing that dream was a reality,

And that reality was also a dream,

wondering if he was now really asleep or was he awake.

Posted on April 20, 2010 - by the raijin admirer

The First People

Yesterday’s sand has long since been dusted from the soles of her feet. She walks a different ground now; mother of man; the first seed.

And in his spirit the nature of Hawk, hovering still high amidst the currents, overseeing all that there is to be seen of her; protecting from afar this first source from which we all arose. Now Tanka-Sari brings home the food which will feed her and their children, while he watches from afar; keeping guard against Fear; the Monster.

The day before, in the beginning of time; when the world was still being sung into existence; they were both very different beings.

She was born a Mermaid, of greater beauty than any other in all the waters of the Earth; the pride of the Sea. Born striking to the eye and pure of heart, Kaholea was a gem, because like Tanka-Sari, she was a shape-shifting celestial, a being rare to Earth and the Heavens alike. And because she was so precious and unique in the vast Oceans, Fear, that fierce and dangerous Monster, had hunted her down and made her his prisoner. He was a being that felt so desolate, so ugly and so utterly alone, that only possessing the most beautiful of all creatures in the Sea could ease the pain of his existence.

He was one of the terrible by-products of the creation of this World of Two-Faces, where everything is defined by its polar opposite. In this way Fear, the Monster, was Kaholea’s opposite and nemesis, whose sole purpose of existence was to dominate and consume her.

The Monster was immense, and supported nine heads upon his vast shoulders, and each and every day one of these heads would take turn and terrify Kaholea to fill her with fear; after which it would feed on her emotions.

Kaholea was too overwhelmed to escape. There were no ropes or chains to bind her in that cavern, yet she could not find the strength to leave; she was a prisoner not of the Monster in reality, but of the fear she harboured within, for she was impregnated with it. So she sat there, in that underwater prison, for what seemed to be an eternity, with the growing darkness within.

Then one day Tanka-Sari, who at that time was taking the form of a very small Turtle, swam into the cave, looking for a place to rest, away from predators.

He was a prize catch, for he was the master of the world of dreams; weaver of the universes contained within them, and Monsters from all Corners of the Earth seeked to trap and destroy him.

Whenever Tanka-Sari slept, he would attain the perfect inner silence, and from that silence the dreams would be born and emanate outwards from his head, during which all the surrounding beings would be intoxicated, influenced by a growing calmness that rose within, as a peace that changed all notions.

All things dark became bright under the light the little Turtle endowed, and none on earth had the power to break the spell.

So only in his waking hours could Tanka-Sari be harmed. He who trapped him would own the dreams of all beings, and he who killed him would become the destroyer of the World of Dreams, absorbing the power contained within it, and usher in a new Dark Age.

By chance, or by no chance at all, the Turtle had come to sleep near the Monster’s lair after a long swim across the Oceans, and with this the Monster was overcome by a feeling it had never before experienced, and it fell into sleep and dream, which was unknown to the nine headed beast.

So the Monster finally let down its guard.

With this Kaholea, who because she too was a celestial being was not put to sleep by the Turtle’s creative dreaming, and slipped out of the cave that was her hypnosis, leaving behind her inner prison; and all fear within.

Seeing the Monster asleep, she was intent on finding her saviour and inspected every little mount or crevice around the Monster’s lair until at last she came face to face with Tanka-Sari.

It was love at first sight.

Tanka-Sari awoke to a sight more beautiful than any he had ever dreamt up.

Kaholea peered into the deep eyes of the most loving and benevolent creature she would ever meet.

At that moment the Turtle, inspired by this new blessing, changed into a Dolphin, and quickly both he and the Mermaid began to swim away from the Monster’s domain.

But with the awakening of the Turtle came the awakening of the Monster, who noticing the Mermaid gone immediately understood that she had escaped, and began to give chase to the two.

With all their strength Tanka-Sari and Kaholea swam as fast as they could, but the Monster was fast at their heels and closing in. Escape was ultimately impossible, for the Monster was way too fast for the Dolphin and the Mermaid.

Knowing that they would be unable to escape the Monster, Tanka-Sari turned to intercept the Monster, allowing Kaholea to put some distance between them.

Both Tanka-Sari and the Monster braced for the imminent impact, but at the precise moment when the two were about to collide, Tanka-Sari willed himself into a gigantic whale, and opened his mouth to swallow the Monster whole.

Yet this would not be enough to exterminate the evil-doer, so after swallowing the Monster Tanka-Sari burst into flames and was immediately put out by the water.

All that was left were a few bubbles drifting upwards towards the Heavens.

Kaholea was heartbroken, her Love gone, but she was free, and in grief she swam ashore to leave the world of water forever and die at the shore of the sea, so she could meet her heart in the heavens, but alas, soon after she had left the waters and lain on the sand she noticed that she was not dying.

Bathed by the rays of God the Sun her tails and scales had given way to two beautiful legs and Kaholea had become a woman.

Meanwhile the bubbles had risen to the surface, and there where sea and air meet, at the swaying border between worlds a Hawk had taken to the skies.

It was Tanka-Sari who had now changed into a Hawk and taken flight to search for his loved one.

As the Hawk witnessed the metamorphosis from Mermaid to Woman, he swooped down and landed on the ground beside her, immediately transforming himself into a man so that they could finally match shapes.

Both held up their arms to the Sun-God in gratitude, and Sun-God knowing that Fear would not be gone forever, descended to earth to council with Kaholea and Takan-Sari, and give them advice on how to proceed.

He told them that Fear was gone for now, but would return to hunt them down, this time as an invisible Monster, for Fear knew no death beyond the body. Sun-God explained that in turning into Woman and Man, they had become a new species, and in doing so had become invisible to Fear for some time.

Then Sun-God taught them Fire, a tool with which they could keep Fear at bay during the long hours of the night on land. They were no longer celestials, although they had not lost the power of creation, and were to multiply their kind on earth. If their children were to use Fire against Fear and not each other the Earth would forever be a bountiful garden; a mirrored image of Heaven, but if Fear was to win the fight with people-kind; dominate their thoughts, and own their creativity; then they would one day be forced to leave the Earth, and take to the skies.

And so Kaholea and Tanka-Sari gave birth to people-kind.

Posted on April 22, 2010 - by the raijin admirer

the war that has never ended

The war has never ended; and left unclear are only the reasons to why it had begun in the first place, and what were the real agendas and motivations behind the puppeteer’s orchestration of such an outrageous attack against that which we all hold so holy, the freedom to self determination; the freedom of choice.

The economic lop-sided balance of power, and fueling of interests, weakens them. In favor of the grand economic purpose, is the deafening of the masses, and the souls that do not grow, because the soil in which the struggle to live is sterile, and the water that feeds, is poisoned.

The big machine is taking over. It has convinced the populace that life is work and cheap entertainment a prison that should satisfy them. Taught to need the unnecessary, and to fear, people are ashamed of the deep…

However, within lies the giant; and the giant is always hungry to express. Not even all the superficial artifices in the world can bury its urge to voice. It will only be quiet for so long; and then it must finally burst through.

The true revolution is internal. One by one, we will all return to the source, and leave the weakness behind. In the end, the crooked road leads only to self-destruction.

This is the twilight night, the dawn of the battle of one-hundred days, and beginning of the brave stance of the masses in the land of Boku.

Shadowed by the Great Mountain that divides the kingdoms of Wu and Oden, on a wide field of green, the two factions are gathered, one on each side of the stream; camped on the fields that will later become soaked in the blood of men. The Emperors of Wu and Oden sit on their horses mid-stream, engaged in a fierce battle of wits and dialogue.

For half a day, they have been debating on the predicament that has led them both here for such a parade of force. The Emperor of Oden listens to the Emperor of Wu’s last argument before they retire to their respective camps and plan the course of the ensuing battle.

“I, the leader of the people of Wu say this: The expanse of your kingdom, and engulfment of your neighboring kingdoms; be it by influence or might, has proved to be a risk to our peaceful region, and deemed reproachable and punishable by force.

We differ in ideology and ways of life, which are now locked head to head in a tug of war for the destiny of this great island. Your covert maneuvers, to weaken us by provoking a decrease of prices on the goods that we export have forced us to make a stance. Granted, it is because of our obvious record of profits and growth in the past decade that you feel threatened by us, coupled with your insatiable greed to control the fate of all living, that you have pushed us to this predicament. We can only run from you, or rebel against you, and the way of life, you aim to instill in us.

I know your true face, the face of a monster that hides behind the guise of a lamb; a guise that has deceived many of our neighboring kingdoms. They consider you the representative of a new and inevitable order, yet out of respect for the kingdom of Wu, they do not join your colors in the battlefield. And you do not need them, for your forces outnumber ours by far.

It is funny how the myths come to life, and the old tales still ring true. Once again, death descends sheathed in the robes of war, and violence. Hate and fear again come to reap our land. But I have reached up and grabbed the veil. I hail to those who guard me well, and God as well.  I see you only as the representative of hell returning to the earth of men and women.

Run; or rebel I will say to those under my care. No longer can I supervise your decisions, for I am now only a warrior that will stand and fight to the last of my strengths in the winds of war. This war will last long beyond this time of reckoning, and it will also be fought without weapons; for it is a battle for the mind of the people that we are embarking on; the gateway to the heart and soul, possession of which is one-thousand times worthier than that of the body.

We will never surrender, and will fight, long after your kingdom has overpowered ours in the battlefield.”

The Emperor of Wu and the Emperor of Oden then turned their backs to each other and rode their horses away from the stream. Fate was sealed. The next day would bring with it many deaths, and most present would not live to see what the future would hold for the places they had come from, and the people they had known and loved.

Once dismounted the Emperor of Wu addressed his warriors, and gave them a choice:

“Warriors of Wu, you may choose now if you are to stay here and fight tomorrow, or leave to be with your loved ones, but know this, the war does not end here, and even if you decide to leave you can still resist. Life will overcome strife. It always does, and you need only grab hold and believe. You have the right to choose, and the right to be free; that most divine of states the Maker has bestowed on us. Whatever happens here tomorrow, be true to yourselves, and listen to what the heart speaks, for without it you are lost. Remember that how you choose to live your life shows just as well how you do not.

If you cannot refuse the new order, do not blame yourselves, for regret is a parasite that will feed on you until you are nothing more than a walking corpse. But when you decide to live beside the lines they have written for you, and carve your own way of life in them, you will have a chance to destroy the beast from within; teaching others by example. Remember, choice is freedom, and they will never give up until we have all rescinded that freedom, because only when we do, they can keep us feeding the machine that depletes the soul; not only our own soul, but the souls of all animate and inanimate beings, and the soul of the planet. Run or rebel, but hold strong, and one day they will be gone, and we will all again listen to the Great Spirit.”

The warriors then returned to their stations, some filled with hope, some filled with awe, and some filled with doubt, for they had been given a choice. To them it would have been easier to be ordered either to go or to stay.

Meanwhile, on the other side of the stream, the Great Emperor of Oden was consulting the shaman in his tent. The Emperor sat on the pelt of a bear, in front of a small fire, facing down, for even he was terrified of the stare of the spirits that talked through the shaman.

The shaman played a constant cyclical rhythm on his deerskin drum with a beater, the shadows of which, cast by the fire, danced on the roof of the tent; resembling a multitude of wild animals in their different dances of life.

Even they seemed to give off power, and even they he avoided to look at for too long. The shaman was cleansing, and after a while in which the only sounds to be heard were the drum and the wind outside, the shaman began to sing a calling song, repeating the same sentences over and over again “Through, these words not coming from me, they’re coming from you. Open my mouth, clean, so you can throw through. Please watch out for those in between who may still know you, when you come crashing through.”

He then stopped suddenly and stood there, eyes closed, half bent and leaning his head from side to side, listening to the invisible voices around him. After a short while, he turned to the Emperor and said, “You are carrying a seed that will destroy the ground it touches. It is within you, and you are the porter of this evil spirit. It is in the way you see the world. I ask you, does it satisfy you, or do you still feel empty? Or are you even not aware of that?

We have no desire to rob you of the fire you have lit, for in that fire you will burn. The consequences of your actions you must reap yourself.

We are the voices of all the warriors slain in battle throughout the ages; fighting against that very seed you carry with you; and we are many. All sacrificed in name of determination, and of belief. We know that Spirit well, for we have battled it throughout the ages, just as we will tomorrow. Do not think for a second that only humans will attend the battle. We will all be there, on the other side, as we have always been. You will win the battle tomorrow, and many more on the field, but you will not have won everything. Even after you have destroyed the homes and cultures of all on this island on your insatiable quest for more power, you will not have won everything, and when you are close to your ultimate goal, in the very end, the Great Mother will once again cleanse the land and destroy all on it in preparation for a new beginning. And you will then have lost everything you have built…Now we bid our goodbyes, and float away from the mouth that allowed us to stay and voice. Until another day…”

All he had heard from the oracle – for he rested assured that he would beat the Emperor of Wu in battle the next day, – did not bother the Emperor.  Victory was all that mattered to him; he did not care about what would come after, for he fought one battle at a time.

Dawn came, and both armies lined up face to face in the battlefield. All day they fought, and when night descended, the army of Wu had scattered, broken by the forces of Oden. Most lay dead on the field, painting the earth and water red with their blood.

Some surviving warriors dispersed to form small bands that would continue the fight. Some renounced the world of violence and became monks; helping through the world of spirit and energy. Some continued the war as rogue warriors to disrupt and vex the empire of Oden whenever and wherever they could, and some dared to live within the empire, raising families and instilling the values of Wu in their children.

As for the Emperor of Wu, in his last moments, as he lay mortally wounded watching the red stream flow by, he had a vision. He witnessed a winged being of white light walking on the water towards him. It had come to take him to the world above. The Emperor rose from his body and floated towards the angel, merging with it as they met. And only those who lay dying witnessed this; and rejoiced, for they had not died in vain, and in their death, they were breaking the line. All were content that the Emperor had ascended to the heavens. He had vowed that he would always protect them and their kin, and they knew he would be now watching over them from the planes above.

Posted on April 26, 2010 - by the raijin admirer

People of the Trees

…And the crow called me into a new world, amidst seething torrents and waterfalls of voices, that melted into one great hum; giving way to the spirit voices, waking me from my rest.

The river and the bridge were gone, and the man-made edifices had now become trees more than one thousand measures high; the hard-paved streets had given way to the yielding ground, and turned into the tender wild grass around me.

I can hear them now, the people of the trees, whispering to each other in a slow and soft conversation that has lasted for centuries, and I am awake again. No more is the swarming of the hordes, and no more are the tangents of the flesh. I feel weightless and silent, here among the grandparents, and I am surely born again.

It was the crow who brought me here, a mystical being of high degree, carrying the seed of what I am now to become, and resting me here, among the grandparents in this ancient and peaceful forest. Now I wait, and grow with their words as sustenance.

As the lights grow dim, and night settles on this other invisible side of the earth, bringing rest to those who sleep; the little ones begin to glow. They are the keepers of the forest, tending for the health and growth of all plants alike, sharing with them their shine, which is the spiritual water; or Love.

They have merry faces, and hop about playing tricks on each other while doing their work, from which they derive great pleasure. Like their counterparts in the physical world, they also have clans, which compete with each other in a healthy rivalry to do better work. And in the teams, there are many jobs to be taken in rotating turns; the singers and musicians who keep the working spirits high, the tenders of the roots who go under the ground, the cleaners of the stalks and branches, and the ones who polish and take care of the foliage and the flowers. There are also the ones who bring the ale to the workers who launch a mighty: “Ho!” before each big gulp. These funny and tireless beings are teeming with the good life, and brighten up the forest every single night.

Then there is, of course, my good friend Minpoki; that ancient God who, since the very beginning has roamed the forest consuming those who offer themselves to him feeling it is time to give up the Ghost and crossover to a new life. When it is time for us, and we will it to be, we change our color; waiting to shed our skin, and Minpoki comes to set us free.

Since I was first born here, the good Minpoki visits with me every night, and sometimes he tells me stories of my past lives, so that I may understand the string of life; where I’m coming from and which way this course leads. He told me that once, a very long time ago, when this present world was still in the making, in an age where another of the great transformations was marking the human sphere, I had been borne to the world of people. It was the time when within every person, the pale Ghost and the Giant spoke with equal volume, making the world of people a very dangerous place to be born in, for there was no clarity of intent in their divided attention. The Great Destroyer worked to undermine the work of the Great Creator within with his legions of dark energies; lead by fear, greed, and deceit.

Meanwhile, the Great Creator could only whisper softly from the hearts of people, and hope that they could hear his call. People must choose and learn for themselves, lest the lessons not be truly felt and learnt. For that reason the Great Creator; the Giant within, can only force his way up when the host is in extreme duress, otherwise It would be interfering too actively in the host’s will, and hamper self-determination and the actualization of Man’s created destiny. But the Great Destroyer; the pale Ghost within is free to run rampant and cause all kinds of mayhem, for It does not abide by the same spiritual order than the Giant, and to It chaos is golden.

But there were other aids to help the people help themselves. There were the rhythms in the natural world, concurrent yet flexible, and the examples set by the animals, each species and being endowed with a purity of personality; all great examples of behavior and wisdom. The natural world sang as it moved along, a song that could be heard by any who stopped to listen.

Yet we lived huddled together in caves we had built in our mountains of stone, and we ignored the world outside. Therefore, we were often victims to the deceit of the pale Ghost within. However, I had been born with the fortune to hear beyond the mask of sounds that permeates the air, and that was my talent, which led me to recognize the chant of the Four Brothers. At first, others had taught me that they did exist and lit the spark in me, others who lived outside the common mind-frame, and when I finally stopped to listen, the Four Brothers were there. That had been my destiny then, to learn the language of Nature and pass on the message.

In each of the Four Corners of this Earth is a spirit that will teach and protect they who acknowledge their knowledge. They are the Four Brothers. I call them brothers because to me we are all the children of the same God, but it would be more accurate to call them Chiefs in deference to the wisdom they impart. They are the keys to understanding the rhythm of the natural worlds, as they stand in their directions and from there conduct the symphony of the natural world as it passes along the cycle of birth, growth, decay, and death. A cycle mirrored in all things great and small, visible and invisible, without and within.

After living a long and fruitful life, the Four Brothers turned my road, and it was my time to return to the world of the Great Spirit, where I waited to return and continue to pass on whatever it was I had to give.

When Minpoki finished I rejoiced with that beautiful tale of lore, and thanked him for his place in my string of life. At that moment I was a little plant growing from the forest ground, happy to be part of that great community in celebration of life, but I knew, with every new dawn that the end was nearing, for I was feeling rested, and showing signs of becoming prepared to move on.

One night, when Minpoki arrived, I had chosen to change color, and the last thing I remember was his open mouth engulfing me, and then blackness, and I was flying again…

Posted on May 6, 2010 - by the raijin admirer

Chizuko

-          I walk divided…

The mumble was lost in the wind, fading away like the thought that had given it birth. High up above the sea, rising far beyond the green hills, lost between the gigantic mountains, a young man walked aimlessly through the snow. He was the storm that had come to pass without shedding so much as a drop over the land, for where he came from it was not correct behaviour to allow the great waves of emotion to come splashing out from within.

Chizuko he had been named at birth, but now he was nameless, because he had abandoned his home and had dishonoured himself by abandoning his obligations towards his country. He was no longer a son of the village in which he was raised.

- “Love is a precious fluid that sits contained in a vessel made by the ancestors and kept within. It is to be guarded and cherished as a great treasure in private, yet not admitted as being of any value before others. Neither is it to be sipped or tasted except in upmost secrecy, never to be admitted as being inebriating, and capable of making one forget ones ‘self  before others. It is the end and the beginning, uncontrolled and uncontrollable, only to be handled and used according to ancient and wise rules of conduct. What is Love but the very thing that has made me and then destroyed me…? “ -

Dusk was coming down and the first star became Chizuko´s guide towards the unknown. He did not care where he walked to, for his mind was on where he had come from, and the reasons why he had left were consuming his feverish mind.

The reasons were obligations, the timeless and unbound obligations that were binding for all time. The obligations he had received by birthright from the Emperor, from his parents, and from his own chosen profession. Obligations which had grabbed hold and contained him when his heart had begun to shine with Love for a woman, with Love for life and Love for the world. They were the vessel which imprisoned him.

- “Wind, feed this fire that burns in my mind. Send the earth from these high mountains down upon my head to bury me, and drown my sorrows with the long black night of sleep. I cannot kill myself, but I wish I was no more. I have stood up against my family’s decision to keep me from marrying my loved one, and now I am dishonoured. Too weak to repay my debts to society, I do not deserve to live.

I wish to die but I cannot take my own life, because she is still living, and as long as she lives I cannot die. I am condemned to live as a fallen man. “ -

It was cold in the night. The temperature had fallen but Chizuko did not feel the cold for he was burning inside. He did not feel his fingers, they were numb. He did not feel his toes, they were numb. He did not feel the cold for he was numb to the outside world.

That’s why Chizuko did not notice he had walked straight into a lone hut that sat high up in those dark mountains.

Inside, it was warm. Chizuko stood at the door, peering into a single room lit with amber from a fire in the centre that was casting dancing shadows upon the walls. He felt as if he was waking up from a feverish nightmare, and the warmth from the fire made him feel like he was finally regaining consciousness from darkness of the heart. He had not noticed Suelto who was sitting up against one of the walls watching Chizuko with a pleasant smile and eyes that knew.

- “Come in my friend, welcome into this humble home. Come in and take shelter from that long black night you have been carrying with you. The first star has now guided you into my home. I have been expecting you for some time fallen brother, quite some time. “ -

At these words Chizuko became alert, but he was too disheartened to become suspicious or defensive.

– “This man is surely a ghost and I am either dead or insane. “ – He thought to himself, but Suelto had eyes that could see and ears that could hear and he knew what Chizuko was thinking.

- “I am no ghost and you are neither dead nor insane my friend. “

- “How do you know so much about me then? “

- “Because the walls have told me. “

Chizuko then looked up at the walls, and to his amazement he saw that they had all been painted by hand with both the most beautiful and horrific of sights. He felt suddenly overwhelmed by their intensity and could immediately see himself in their depths. A light shone in his mind, and Chizuko then instinctively knew.

Suelto was a painter of the old ways. One of the ancient ones who practiced the formless, a style of painting that had survived from the times before the Emperors and before the modern man through isolated individuals that lived far from reach. Their ways had been determined to be against the Emperors law a long time past.

Chizuko had learnt in school that before the Emperors and before the modern man, in the age when it was common belief that the animals had spirits who could speak to us in our dreams, there existed a practice that was trained in all forms of art. It was the `empty´ form. Artists in those days viewed themselves as mere channels of art, as opposed to the conceptual creators of the modern times. But that was a way that was considered extinct under the Emperors rule.

Suelto stood up and sat Chizuko down by the fire. – “Warm yourself my brother, and eat, for you need to regain your strength and well-being. “ – So he placed food down before Chizuko and watched him eat in silence, after which, when Chizuko had eaten his fill Suelto spoke thus:

–“I have been painting around these walls for what is a long long time now, and they have kept me informed of what goes on within and without me. I practice an ancient form of painting that has been handed down for countless generations. Painting has taught me everything, and for a while now I have seen you in my painting. Look closely, there you are, in the snake that has uncoiled itself around the room, and look, here we are at the mouth of the snake.”-

Chizuko was without words. He could see all his joys and sorrows there in the painting. His past and now his present were represented, and there, spawning from the present could be seen his ensuing future. Suelto had placed his hand on Chizuko´s shoulder. It was warm and comforting. With a smile he told Chizuko that he was welcome to stay with him as long as he wanted, and advised him to study the painting until he saw the answers to all his doubts. Then, if he wished he could stay with him and live a simple and peaceful life or move on.

It took Chizuko many days to see what he needed to see in the painting. The more he stared, the more complicated the painting seemed, until one day, in a moment of distraction, he saw beyond the surface of the lines, and into the meanings that lay behind.

The snake represented his walk through life. At first coiled and protected from the Great Unknown by his life within society, then uncoiled and slithering through it, haunted by pain and despair. At a point the snake began to shed skin and an ensuing great change could be seen.

Then there was the present, at the mouth of the snake. There Chizuko could see Suelto and himself standing head to head holding a golden, glowing heart the colour of amber. It was the fire; they were holding his spirit in their hands. The glow of his spirit cast shades of the future through the remainder of the painting.

To his past Suelto’s shade disintegrated into nothingness, and to the future Chizuko’s shade cast a multitude of shapes.

He saw a flying man and two roads; one flowing back into the mountains, and one ending at the village. In the village he could see an end and in the mountains he could not. And in the village he saw her, in a world of shades with her glowing heart casting her shadow with wings. But around that winged shadow there were bars. It was a cage, a cage built  with obligations.

The very next morning, as Suelto awoke he noticed a breeze gently sweeping at his face. It was coming to let him know that Chizuko was leaving. As Suelto sat up he saw Chizuko standing at the door, preparing to leave.

Suelto stood up walked towards Chizuko to give him his parting words:

- “You will leave and I will paint again. And soon we will meet again. That I do not have to paint to know. “ -

So Chizuko did indeed leave, treading the path backwards towards his village, now filled with hope. When he arrived at the outskirts of the village he waited in hiding until nightfall turned the world into shadow, and then he secretively sneaked around towards his loved one’s parent’s house. He passed the Lord’s palace but obligation could not tempt his determination, he passed his own parent’s house yet obligation could still not tempt his will, and finally he arrived at his loved one’s parent’s house. Chizuko sneaked inside and made it to her room without being noticed, gently waking her up. She woke and opened her beautiful almond eyes peering into Chizuko’s and whispering sleepily:

- “I dreamt of an old man and a snake. The old man told me to get ready for I will be going towards a golden land; he told me that you were coming for me… “ -

With these words Chizuko became certain without a doubt that the right way was beyond obligation. Love was the true Emperor, and the only obligation he should accept was to live in Love and to generate it. With this he took his Loved one’s hand, and fled from the village back to the mountains.

There both he and his love married under the stars. They built their home near Suelto’s hut and both became apprentices of the old way. With time they came to understand in their hearts, and to use what they had learnt to teach those who so desired the seed and the fruit of the old ways. In this way the old way of the `empty´ form was kept alive for any who wished to embrace it., and with time many souls walked the path to wisdom through it.

The old ways are timeless, as are the ancestors who have walked them. Some are hollow bones who voice the wisdom of the elders.”