taotiger - Uroboros Dreaming

A couple of moon-cycles later, carrying the inscribed container and torch along the tunnel leading into the centre of the mountain, age-weary steps measure an even pace. The route now second nature, counting of the turns is no longer necessary, and with the words ‘Absque Spiritus Nihil’ still sounding under breath as they have for many years, the distance falls away until the river can be heard ahead.

Meeting the eyes gradually adjusting to the cavern light, Bukem’s inert yet vital form sits in the posture of meditation he has described in detail as a “power position”. Adopting a similar attitude on this side of the stream, placing the canister on the ground in front, almost at once a flood of speech is loosed, “These incidents of auditory hallucination you’ve been told of… It’s not that anything terrible is exactly caused by it - in fact, there’s something intriguing about them - only they come at the most inopportune moments… Can anything be done to stop it happening?”
Immediately comes the reply, “As you are fully aware, it is not merely that we create the world around us through the consciousnessing process, but that a reciprocal interaction occurs. While I am manifesting the illusion of a material reality, so is that mirage acting upon me to alter my very substance. Since there is no limit to the infinite all around us, either in number or variety, content or context, occasionally the boundaries between outer and inner allow the passage of imperceptible seed-forms from undiscovered realms. Finding fertile ground in the psyche, some of these entities reproduce exponentially, causing virulent outbursts of unfamiliar experience, which may subside or increase at a rate relative to their particular constitution. It seems that what you are undergoing is a natural phenomenon, and not merely hallucination - an influx of strange yet very real ideation, the gateway to which is penetrating and taking root in a closed but permeable system, therein populating the mind-stuff with channels funnelling information from what may be termed alternate dimensions.”
“So, what is to be done?”
“Well, to use what is around us as an analogy, let’s say you are the mountain. While looking inside yourself you come across this room, and find a river comprising an unusual type of apparently non-mountain element. What can you do? There is no use denying it is here. Nor can the mountain know where the river comes from. Acceptance of the river is all that can be hoped for - maybe you will want to dwell with the river some more to explore it’s foreign attributes, maybe you would prefer to inhabit the outer hillsides of your being. Either way, you’re stuck with it. Realise this. Accept it as a part of life.”
“Then, it is to be accepted. No harm has come of it so far - from now it will be welcomed, investigated and then forgotten, all with equanimity as a part of the natural order.” Eyeing the jar, curiosity prompts the next question, “And what of this container - you asked that it be brought here, with the poultice inside.”
“Open it, and we shall see…”
Picking up the canister, and turning the lid to remove it, the top comes off effortlessly this time. A shake to free the contents and… “What!” On the ground not a foot-length away is a small, swaying snake. Even in the half-light, phosphorescent scales emit enough light to discern a rainbow-coloured skin, glowing eerily and moving towards the water. “How did…!”
“Just the same as your voices, what was inside, is now without. The creature has a two hundred moon renewal cycle, regenerating this way for perhaps thousands of years, in close symbiosis with the local human population. This is not the last time you will see its kind.” The serpent slides into the stream, faintly luminescent under the water for a short time, then gone. “Now go. Our work here is done. I have grown very fond of you, however ours is but a passing union in a long chain of teaching tradition. You now possess all my knowledge and the wisdom of years. Next visit here, at the full moon, bring Droufadni and all your valued belongings. Hide the jewelled container in the alcove, and enjoy the intervening period like no other. Farewell, my friend!”
“Bukem, the sense of this talk is unclear. It will be as you ask, though. Thank you for everything, for that is what you have given. See you soon, old teacher and friend!”

After telling Droufadni of the meeting, preparations are made for leaving the cave. Rare herbs found and preserved over the years, beads carved from stone and shell, clothing, tools and a variety of foodstuff - all this and more is carefully packed away into two bundles to be carried down into the passages. The time left is spent also reminiscing, relaxing in the warm evenings by the fire as the days grow longer, wondering over the fortune of discovering a satisfying, sustainable alternative to the village life below.

The night of departure nears. Lighting the pipe and drawing deeply, savouring the resulting drowsiness, Droufadni gives voice to a matter close to heart, “All this time, we’re living as closely as a man and a woman may, and yet we’ve had no children. I know it would be the same anywhere, and that you feel disappointed as well, but now I’m too old. While it’s all behind us now, I can’t help thinking of my family, my brothers and sisters, and how we used to play every day for hours by the sea - we must move on, but something pulls me back to the old times…”
“Sadly, there are some things beyond our control.” Taking the pipe, “In this life it is not granted us to live all possibilities. The enacting of one opportunity means the forsaking of all others. Who is to say what may have been, only that of all life courses existing as potential in the beginning, conditions allow but a single path to emerge. All care has been taken in the choices made, now it is hindsight that must look gently on what is unchangeable.”
“I guess…”

Packing the pipe and gazing out over the trees, extending a hand to stroke Droufadni‘s greying hair, “Anyhow, there’s an inevitable yearning for stability in periods of rapid change, for connection. As Bukem has shown, we must let go - of memories, of what passes presently, and future hopes. The eternal now is all there ever was...”

Taking leave of the idyllic surroundings of the mountain home, having hidden the canister and readied all possessions for the anticipated journey, the pair shuffle forwards under the heavy load towards the underground tunnels. Looking back one last time outside, the crops bend in the wind, turning budding heads to the cave, birds twitter final goodbyes in the waning light, and the firepit smoulders, emitting smoky hands waving in the tropical breeze.

All that remains are the few wooden structures built over the many blissful years, some bedding in the alcove, and some boxes and belongings too heavy to be carried. Droufadni’s cheeks wet from tears, the couple turn, and walk through the opening leading into the dark, cold mountain.

Moving ahead with the torch, the symbols and figures etched onto the walls over the centuries appear bolder and clearer than ever before, heralding from ages past a new stage of undertaking, the lifeless crushed coloured rock marking an animated trail of rich, lively endeavour. The procession turns into one passage after another, accompanied by the painted scenes and a feeling of excitement building as all known comforts and securities are left behind in exchange for an uncertain destination. Soon the sound of rushing water fills the narrow passage.

To Droufadni, the words, “Bukem will be waiting around the next corner…”

Rounding the final turn, the grandeur of the cavern prompts an exclamation of wonder from Droufadni, “Whoaa…”

On the opposite riverside, dimly visible by the sputtering flame, the sitting figure rests alert, immovable as ever. A rope hangs over the stream, suspended from the opening in the roof. Calling a greeting across the water, a pause, then an unfamiliar response. A high-pitched, rasping voice answers, in unmistakably female tones, “Bukem is with us no more. I am Volnia, Bukem’s companion. You must come with me - it is his last request. Use the rope.”

First, Droufadni swings over the freezing underground river. Laden with one bundle of possessions, and another, the stream is traversed again, until all three are on the same bank. Volnia rises, and walks to a low opening in the cave wall, urging, “Through here.” Following behind, after bending to enter the small portal, the roof of the tunnel slopes gradually upwards, allowing freedom to walk upright again.

Silently heading on in single file, presently a side track joins the main corridor, beyond which a large room can be vaguely seen. Volnia, standing at the junction, motions the two inside, where in the torchlight a massive spectacle greets the senses. All around the room, littering the floor, are human bones. Hundreds of skulls peer emptily amidst the mortal ruins - a wind brings the faint scent of decay. Glittering within the gruesome rubble, reflecting the flame, are scattered amulets of the same material as the one Bukem presented years ago, the ‘eye of the beast’.
“What is this place?”
Volnia answers, “It is the resting place of your people. Eventually, the hunger of the beast can be assuaged no longer by the talisman - this is it’s lair, and the price of knowledge is exacted here. Now quickly. We must go.”

Back in the main tunnel, only a few rock designs cover the walls, mainly scattered abstracted symbols, no longer pictures of animals or people. The path climbs higher, air fresher further away from the morbid burial chamber below. At a forking of the trail, Volnia stops, picking up a heavy shoulder bag. Pointing along one tunnel, she says, “I have to leave you - this is our way, mine and eventually yours Droufadni - for my journey is only beginning. Through this passage, down which I will soon be gone, lies a valley some four days walk, secreted in the inland jungle. There, the ancient ways are preserved, and the quest for spiritual learning is supported and nourished by the entire community. Our purpose here is to keep the beast at bay, to prevent it from reaching that homeland of otherworldly prosperity, and to pass on the ancient wisdom. Only by the presence of a living carrier of the talisman may the beast be contained here. The other passage leads to your new home.” Removing a blue coloured amulet from around her neck, the elderly Volnia places it over the head of Droufadni. “Keep this with you at all times - it is charged with the power to keep you safe from the terrible malice of the creature, and will never fail. You are both lucky - you have created a serene existence for yourselves in accordance with universal harmony. Do not be afraid of what is to come, but continue to manifest beauty and compassion until we may meet again in spirit, during this life or another. Goodbye now.”
In unison, “Goodbye, Volnia.” and Droufadni adds, “…thank you so much.” Together, watching her walk away, each caught in their own thoughts, the couple grasp each others hand and turn to follow the other tunnel.

A short way along, the winding passage ends at a narrow opening, just wide enough to squeeze through. On the other side, in the open air again, the moonlit sight astonishes the pair - all around, full circle, sheer rock walls tower into the night sky. A freestanding wooden house of highly unusual design sits at one edge of the broad open-cave floor, light coming from within as though a fire is still burning. Heading this way, soon the steps leading upwards are climbed and, Droufadni lingering behind, the front door is pushed inwards.

Inside, the main room is large, and rather than rough seats made from rock and skins, carved chairs of a dark brown wood covered with woven material surround a fireplace against one wall, a stone chimney channelling the smoke up and out of the house. The atmosphere is one of calm peacefulness, an ordered chaos of neatly arranged clutter lining the sides of the room - in cupboards and on shelves the accumulated items treasured by many generations, some recognisable and others not, shrouded by a mysterious strange attractiveness, contribute to a feeling of cosy warmth.

A trickle of water, diverted from a stream outside, runs through the kitchen area, and leaves via a duct in the far wall. All manner of pots and jars fill the spacious alcove dedicated to preparing food.

Looking further into the adjoining rooms, one appears to be a sleeping chamber, one an empty space with a stone bath, and another contains a desk, shelves of scrolls and an assortment of arcane equipment serving who knows what purpose, but arranged about benches in seemingly meaningful array. A large, cool storeroom is found, complete with row upon row of ceramic containers, smelling of spices and exotic fragrances.

Easing down into a chair before the fire Droufadni, tearful only a short time ago, breaks into laughter, saying, “How are we so fortunate - this is the most amazing house I could have imagined!”
“Yes, it is wonderful. Only, remember what Volnia said - the price of knowledge."

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