esson 6: The Realm of the Sword

 

    travel east into foreign lands. The day is overcast and a bit wet, but the land is greening. The grass is growing and there are patches of crocuses are popping up. The wind makes me turn up my collar. At last I approach the Sword Castle, hoping to find shelter. But the place doesn't look too hospitable. I warily cross the bridge, expecting at any minute to see an archer peer over the thatch wall.

   No one appears as I come to the gate. I cautiously push it open, and see a man standing across from me, just inside the castle doorway. He's only about 5 feet tall and is clearly of Asian descent. He look me in the eye and, without a word, turns and enters the building. I follow, after respectfully removing my shoes.

   The simple exterior of the castle belies the beauty within. While there doesn't seem to be excessive frivolous decoration here, there is a simple efficiency and orderliness that is artistic in a minimalist sort of way. A place for everything and everything in its place. It reminds me of the Grail Hermit's hut, in a way. But whereas the GH's hut was warm and fuzzy, the Stone Castle is cool and clear. Orderly.

   The large interior is segmented by thatch dividers, and I count 12 of them radiating from the outside wall towards the large open central area. The central area seems to be a 'public' or group gathering place, whereas the 12 'compartments' seem to be more private. Some of these rooms are open, some have curtains--either drawn across or drawn aside--and one has a closed door.

   A young man emerges from one area, smiles silently at me, and places a large pot on a hook hanging over a fire in the center. The smoke rises through a hole in the roof. The man stirs the pot with a long wooden spoon. Then he pulls a key out of his robes and holds it out to me, pointing at the closed door with his wooden spoon. Taking the key, I bow to him and proceed to enter that room.

   It is a small library or study. Shelves of books line the walls and near the back a large book lies open on a small wicker desk. Looking at the book, I see deeds and circumstances in my life noted there. Sitting on a wicker stool, I take paper and pen from the desk and list the deeds separately under the headings "Rocking"1 and "Rowing"2 (the Boat).

   [LISTS CENSORED -- Notes]

   After writing the lists, and noticing that one is more concerned with the past and one with the present, I feel that they are not really complete. Aha! They won't be complete as long as I've living and interacting with the world. I take the Rowing, or 'credit,' page and insert it into the book. Taking the Rocking, or 'debit,' page in my left hand and the key in my right, I leave the room and lock the door. Approaching the center of the castle, I feed the paper to the fire. What's past is past and this sheet doesn't need to be preserved. As I watch it burn, the Asian-looking man appears by my side. I give him back the key, he smiles at me, and I make my exit.

   As I am about to cross the bridge, I hear a hawk's cry.3 I project my consciousness up to her and soar over the land. The mountains of the Stone Realm give way to rolling hills and marshy valleys in the Sword Realm. The melting snow of spring has brought life to the hills, turning them a lustrous green freckled with yellow wildflowers. In the flatlands, people are busy with spring cleaning and planting and on one hillside I see a boy flying a kite. I direct the hawk over to him, and can see the joy and wonder in his face as 'we' circle around his kite. How fun! The lowlands are soggy from the excess water. Soon the water will be absorbed and give birth to new grass, in time to feed the cows who will 'eat their way' up to the heights. Since I come originally from a flat land, it is interesting to see and learn the part altitude plays in the cycle.

   Flying back over the populated area, I see people trimming dead wood from trees and stacking it to be burned. Daffodils pop up here and there and 'primilies' litter lawns. Thawed garden patches sprout weeds and one woman plants pansies on the grave of a lost beloved.4 A cart driver stops to shoo chickens out of the road.

   The farmer spreading mist5 on his field before plowing disturbs a mouse from its hole. The hawk spots it and starts to dive. I know what comes next. I'm outta here.

 


1) Moving to Switzerland came under Rocking.

2) The Rowing list is shorter than what it would have been a few weeks ago. The rowing is so much easier since the stormy sea finally tossed the galley mistress out of the boat! I'm working on bringing harmony by recruiting my brother-in-law for my next neighbor.

3) When I first came to this part, I was really lost. I momentarily considered skipping it. I thought, "How can I describe the Stone Realm? I've never even been there." Then I was there. I live there--literally.

4) cat

5) A combination of compost and cow waste. Smells like home! = P


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