Art and Culture, The Key (A Fairytale) - Chapter 4: Nothing Left To Lose (Part 5)


by E. RAYMOND ROCK - Date: 2008-05-12 - Word Count: 2081 Share This!

The forest was deliciously cool now, waiting silently, reverently for the day ahead, while lively birds and animals greeted the new morning with their familiar cries. The trail was a lush, fragrant tunnel of large ferns, bamboo groves, and tropical flowers surrounded by endless trees, foliage, bushes, and plants of every variety. I must have felt some effects of the little man's inner work from the previous night as the simplicity of this beauty overwhelmed me.

We ambled along in silence for a time, a John carrying his clay bowl totally engrossed in the loveliness of this serene setting, while my mind raced along non-stop. Finally, I couldn't stand it any longer and blurted out, "Weren't you afraid when that tiger came up to you last night?"

A John laughed, "Fear is a good friend; don't you know? It is the best way to calm your mind. You will find that when you are a hairs breadth from oblivion, the fear vanishes. Everything becomes remarkably clear in the immediacy of the moment because the insignificant concerns of the mind are erased by the sobering reality confronting you. Awe-inspiring beauty, close encounters with death, heartbreaking disappointments, life threatening tragedies, spiritual awakenings - all of these have the powerful potential to overwhelm your everyday mind and reduce you to tears, as its precious moment directly touches you. These glimpses of Reality by-pass your mind and directly impact your heart, creating permanent shifts in consciousness, and in the depths of your being by changing your values forever and channeling your life into uncharted waters. These are deep-seated changes of which I speak, and only when you are willing to subject yourself to these kinds of sweeping transformations in your heart can you make progress in your quest for the key."

When I was in my father's bedroom and my mind did clear for an incredible moment, all thinking and scheming stopped, and my life was changed forever from this experience. Something just snapped, and there was nothing that I could do about it; it just happened. I wasn't trying to change my direction in life. I didn't even want to understand anything. I was simply overwhelmed by a force crouching deep within, waiting for the right moment to pounce.

"Beware the sparks of unnecessary thoughts," continued a John, "lest they become a bonfire that destroys you, for only in the absence of thought, and only in this one precious moment, can your deepest being be touched. Your mind will attempt to remember this moment, it will try to hold it, possess it with your thoughts; analyze and sort it out, and in this flurry of activity, the Reality of the moment disappears, replaced by your false interpretations of the truth. You see, while you are busy remembering that last moment, the truth of the present moment slips by, unnoticed, and you completely miss it - and then, sadly, you completely miss the truth of life and every one of its moments as well."

I never really thought about "thoughts" before. They seemed to be there all the time; they were actually me. I could not imagine a time when I did not have thoughts; it would be like not breathing . . . except for that one brief moment when my father died - and when my life changed. If I was not learning anything else, I was learning that the walk to the village was not a time for idle chatter! A John was giving me some basic key seeking advice.

My failure to remain in the moment was obvious, because I nearly stepped on a deadly Russell Viper that was coiled in the middle of the path, looking innocently like a small pile of leaves. I just could not let go of the tiger episode. "Weren't you afraid of dying last night?" I asked incredulously.

The fearless man laughed heartily, "I set the tiger free last night, but I see he still holds you captive! In this very moment, this precious moment, there is no tiger; there are only your thoughts and this beautiful forest, and everything is perfect. Tomorrow, there might be a tiger, and so what if there is? That moment will be perfect as well, because wherever you find yourself, that is exactly where you must be. Why can't you die right now, to your desires and ambitions, your worries and fears? Can you let go of memories, security, and self-identity coming up empty; dying to everything you are familiar with without fearing tomorrow? Without dying to these things, how will you ever free yourself to feel real love, not attachment or lust, but real unconditional, universal love?"

No, I knew that I was not ready to die, but I was determined not to let my preoccupied mind endlessly steal my precious moment and hold me prisoner in my past and future, for I felt that the moment would someday be my legacy; my true being of unbridled freedom and love. I instinctively knew that the special moment they talked about was completely alive, unknown, and immeasurable, embracing both my key and the Source. I was convinced that it reflected my true nature, which is timeless, and that it must be as vast as eternity; the only place I could ever be truly defined.

And finally, when I could actually step into the moment and remain there, I somehow knew that my entire being would be transformed, moved supernaturally from selfish fear into all-encompassing love. Then I would know for myself, without knowing, that everything is perfect, just as it is.

As we descended a small hill, I could see little huts squatting in the shade of banana and coconut trees immersed in subtle layers of thin, blue smoke that blanketed the village from charcoal cooking fires. Sharp stones covering the lane into the village were a big surprise to my tender feet, accustomed to only the soft forest floor. A John turned around and whispered, "Your feet will be tough as sandals in eight months." He was so awake! Nothing escaped his awareness.

Water buffalo tied underneath the dwellings cast wary eyes toward us and lowered their heads in annoyance, knowing that soon they would be led to the rice paddies for plowing. Dogs with missing ears and mangy fur ran wild in the village while smiling mothers stood outside their huts washing their babies by throwing cold buckets of water on their naked, chilled bodies. The villagers would stop their activities for a moment when we walked by, out of respect for the two men who had dedicated their lives to the higher ideals.

I looked back at one of the young mothers. She was happy in this precious moment of her life. Who in the many worlds are happier than this impoverished villager with her baby right now? What wealth and power could create a better moment than hers in this small village? A John's companionship was definitely having an influence on my perspectives.

The peaceful, unhurried way of life in this village followed the rhythm of planting and harvesting that had remained unchanged for untold generations. It was their custom to store one year's supply of rice as insurance against a bad growing season, knowing quite well that two years of bad crops would produce a famine. They could have saved two years supply, but chose instead to simply store one, having a profound understanding between need and greed. They gambled on a famine rather than stretch their physical capacities year after year to store two years supply, which would have caused considerable stress for them and established a level of fear and grasping they preferred not to introduce into their idyllic lives. If it came down to it, they always viewed death as a beginning, not an ending, and although they did not necessarily welcome it, they were well prepared for death and therefore never surprised when it came. At least they had a years supply of food, however, and as a key seeker, it looked like all that I would ever have is a day's supply!

Further down the lane was a line of villagers waiting in line with small-assorted baskets of rice, bananas, mangos and coconuts that looked delicious. Also, there were not-so-delicious looking baskets of grasshoppers, beetles, lizards, snakes and dried fish, but these were rescued by a final basket of splendid cakes made with rice flour and honey.

We walked slowly down the line, heads bowed, as each villager placed some food in a John's clay bowl. I had no bowl, so I could only hold out my hands to receive the food. The moment one of the women noticed my plight, she dashed into her hut and returned with a bowl that she smilingly offered me. A John knew she had given me one of her scarce utensils and that a family member would go without. Somebody was looking out from inside the hut, her husband I assumed, and I recognized him - he was the first villager that confronted the warriors. The kindness and generosity of the villagers never ceased to amaze a John. I was affected as well by these unselfish, poor farmers who happily shared their scarce food with two beggars.

We silently returned to the forest with our pots full and our hearts happy. We took a seat under the shade of a tree to eat and I dug right in, but a John held his finger up, indicating that I should wait - he wanted to tell me something first.

He said key seekers do not eat for amusement, fattening, strength, or escape. They eat for one reason and one reason only, to provide energy so that the key can be pursued. He insisted we mix everything together in the bowl first and then eat quickly. This was to prevent any danger of a key seeker dwelling on the sensory delights of the food or making choices about which foods were preferred, which could possibly bring up thoughts of greed and craving.

"In appreciation to those who offered the food," he then said, "silence is better now." We began to eat and I swatted a mosquito that landed on my hand. A John frowned and silently shook his head, reminding me I was not to kill anything, including even these nasty, little creatures who, he said later, were only trying to survive in this world not unlike anybody else. He had a quiet, compassionate way of teaching.

We finished the meal in about twenty minutes after which he instructed me on the proper way to wash my bowl in the stream and leave it angled on the grass so that the sun would dry the inside.

"Now we will rest," he said, "after which I will introduce you to the ‘inner work.' This inner work will facilitate calming your mind and enable you to remain in this precious moment where the ‘Source of all things' resides. You see, this Reality is now smothered by your idea of yourself, but by practicing the inner work, the Source will occasionally have an opportunity to peek out and give you clues about the key."

"This enormous ‘self' that I have seems somehow connected to the key," I said. Could we talk about this?"

A John was about to say something when he was interrupted by a dog barking not too far away. This was a bit strange because dogs usually only barked while in the villages, never in the forest where tigers roamed. We both glanced toward the forest and listened, but heard nothing further . . . until there was a yelp, followed by silence.

This left me no choice. I had to leave immediately. I wasn't going to put a John in danger one moment longer. "I'll be gone a few days. I'll find you on the trail," I said hurriedly, not giving him time to respond. I left my bowl sitting in the sun, shooed Conqueror into the forest and headed for the last sound I heard from the dog. (To be continued)

E. Raymond Rock of Fort Myers, Florida is cofounder and principal teacher at the Southwest Florida Insight Center, http://www.SouthwestFloridaInsightCenter.com His twenty-nine years of meditation experience has taken him across four continents, including two stopovers in Thailand where he practiced in the remote northeast forests as an ordained Theravada Buddhist monk. His book, A Year to Enlightenment (Career Press/New Page Books) is now available at major bookstores and online retailers. Visit http://www.AYearToEnlightenment.com


Related Tags: spirituality, fantasy, buddhism, fiction, novel, myth, legend, e books, arts and entertainment, fable, fairytales

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