Encounter with the Master
Sihara had always believed that the Master of Transcendence was an old man with a white beard. But a child, with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes?
Warriors of Transcendence, 36
The seventh gate opened. The birds burst into the Chamber and Sihara followed them like one in a dream. The walls of the Chamber were glass, so the sea was visible from all directions. Outside, the water was in motion and inside, all of the colors, every single shade and tone, were in motion. In the center of the Chamber, a boy in a golden cloak sat on a carved wooden chair. He held his head erect like a king, and his hands rested gently on the chair’s arm rests. His expressive eyes sparkled with the grace of truth beyond comprehension, and his warm smile could melt away all sorrows.
His large eyes focused on Sihara. Watching her, as though he had always known her. Watching, as though he knew all she had experienced, and understood its significance. Watching, as if saying: I have waited for you for a long time, it is good you have arrived.
Sihara approached the boy. The streaks of light in his Chamber created crowns around him. She was overcome with great sorrow for her past distance from this place. Her arrival aroused within her a soaring sense of great happiness beyond comprehension. She presented herself before him, as if she had just been born, and she wept. The tears washed away years, many years of doubts and distance. Her spirit calmed. The experiences of her journey, the exhaustion and the extended time spent wandering were forgotten. Now, she felt refreshed.
She observed the boy in amazement. She had always believed that the Master of Transcendence was an old man with a white beard, causing all who gazed at him to be filled with a deep sense of awe and respect. But a child? And with a glimmer of mischief in his eyes? This was not what she had expected.
“Yes, I am a child, but I am also an old man,” said the Master of Transcendence.
“But what are you, really?” wondered Sihara, “What is the true reality?”
“Reality,” the child repeated with a smile, and Sihara recalled the heavy wooden gate, the second gate that she had faced on her way to the Chamber. There was an abyss separating her from the gate, and she remembered thinking that someone was playing a trick on her. But the deer had taught her that when one moves forward, the steps themselves create the path.
“Reality,” smiled the Master of Transcendence, “is what we allow it to be.”
The sky, visible from the windows of the Chamber, became clear, and Sihara was able to see an image of the Towered City looming in the distance. Its gates were open and a turbulent river of shaven-headed warriors streamed out. Sihara retreated, but the Master of Transcendence watched the scene as if it were unimportant.
“What you see happening now is reality,” he said, and Sihara retreated farther until she reached the wall of the Chamber. “But the true meaning of it depends upon the place you assign for it in your heart.”
“The Transcendor created all of this. Even evil is the fruit of his inventions,” continued the child, the smile ever-present in his eyes.
“But why?” Sihara asked, shaken. The voices of the warriors, emanating from the vision in the sky, grew louder, and became aggressive and war-hungry, as they prepared to destroy the land and all of its inhabitants.
“Creating distance to gain closeness and concealing in order to discover,” said the Master of Transcendence as if to himself, his whispers swallowed up by the fierce tumult of the warriors.
Why is he whispering? wondered Sihara, And why are they yelling?
She felt confused and embarrassed. Everything was so startling. She had not expected to see the Master of Transcendence now and in such a situation. The questions that had gnawed at her during her journey to the Chamber resurfaced, demanding answers.
What is the goal? What is the purpose of life and of death? What is the purpose of hope and despair? What is the purpose of desire and resignation? What is the purpose of success and failure? What is the purpose of it all?
The Master of Transcendence arose from his chair and for the first time Sihara noticed that he was wearing a delicate golden cloak, almost transparent, with stirring shades of blue like the colors in his Chamber. He neared the large glass windows and looked through them. The image of the distant City immediately faded and the sky became clear. Then he spoke, and Sihara knew that his voice could be heard for miles. There were people out there somewhere, waiting to hear his voice, and to them he spoke: “Before all things were created, in the depths of great waters, the Light of the Transcendor was hidden in the hearts of all. The light spread through the Land of the Ancient Progeny, illuminating the hearts that yearned for it with all their might. But then a shadow covered the earth. The lights were extinguished in their hearts and darkness concealed the Light of the Transcendor, hindering his strength.”
Suddenly the Master of Transcendence strengthened his voice, like a king ordering his people to fight the greatest battle ever to take place: “But beneath all of the darkness, the light continues to shine, just as it shone and desired to burst forth at the beginning of time. There is no darkness, no obscurity.” Now the Transcendor Himself was speaking through him, and His words, spoken through the Master of Transcendence, were now addressed to evil itself: “In the Simple One, you have no existence. Your eyes are dead. Your Kingdom is demolished. Your shadows are crumbling into fine dust.”
Sihara dropped to her knees in awe, shutting her eyes. The Master of Transcendence moved away from the windows, and came close to her, his voice now soft and encouraging: “The success of evil is an illusion. Do not lose faith in your heart. Even if all seems lost, don’t be deceived by appearances. Life will emerge from the darkness. New life, full and radiant. Even if the Shadows multiply more than ever before, remember that they are nothing more than an illusion. Evil is destined to pass and vanish like a summer’s cloud. The day is approaching!”
Gusts of wind struck the windows with great force. Dark waters gushed. Light faded. “People of truth still remain,” the Master of Transcendence continued, his eyes clearer than ever. “The day is near when the Warriors of Transcendence shall transform evil depth into good depth. In the villages, in the woodlands and even in the Tower. All those who raise their eyes to the good, and make way in their hearts for hope, shall receive weapons and protection from me. One of our warriors is in the Tower, though he is unaware that he is one of us. When you meet him, tell him everything about me and my Chamber. His name is Mahn. Through him you shall find your brother.”
Outside, the waves were illuminated and shades of blue began to move in the Chamber again. The Master of Transcendence spoke no more. He only gazed at Sihara and transferred thoughts into her heart like drops of water.
“All of the root questions have answers, but they take time. Have patience. Allow each root to receive life, to flow upwards, and sprout. Even when the enemy armies wash over the earth, all waiting shall be fulfilled.”
“To continue, to advance, to grow,” Sihara spoke from her heart.
The Master of Transcendence’s eyes expressed satisfaction.
“What is good depth?” Sihara asked after a few moments of silence.
“What is evil depth?” asked the Master of Transcendence.
“Evil depth is darkness, deep and complete, that extinguishes the glimmer of light in all hearts. Evil depth is despair and resignation,” Sihara attempted to describe the people she had seen being swallowed into the Abyss of the Shadows.
“Good depth is found in evil depth, only deeper,” said the Master of Transcendence, “good depth is the light that is concealed under the greatest darkness. Good depth is life itself.”
“I saw people whose light was extinguished,” said Sihara. She did not mean to interrupt his words, as she searched for answers.
“The foundation of their lives was not extinguished, but the hope that meaning would be found was destroyed,” explained the Master of Transcendence. “The good never disappears, and if evil grasps deeply at the root of the spirit, good still remains, hidden behind a curtain just beyond. But the Abyss of the Shadows is deceitful and terrifying, and one can only face it with faith.”
“With faith? In what?” questioned Sihara. She felt that a rescue rope, as thin as silk, was being tossed to her, and her trembling hands could barely get hold of it.
“Faith that evil depth is but an illusion and that good depth exists forever. The Transcendor is pure goodness, goodness with no borders and no end. The shadow curtains were created for you, so that you may cast them away.”
“With faith,” whispered Sihara.
“And with joy,” smiled the Master of Transcendence, and the light of his glance washed over her soul.
“And now, to the archives,” said the Master of Transcendence. From under his transparent golden cloak he removed an ancient golden key. Sihara noticed a drawing of a magnificent white tree etched into the key. The child motioned to Sihara to follow him into a different room. “Look,” he said as he pointed to the ten Transparent One’s standing there. “Do these Transparent Ones look familiar to you?” The internal flames in the hearts of the Transparent Ones pulsated strongly. They were all her height, and their features were delicate. She gasped for a moment when she understood why they were so familiar to her. All of them, each and every one, resembled her.
“These are your special Transparent Ones,” explained the Master of Transcendence, the smile ever present on his face. “I would say, almost Transparent Masters.”
The Transparent Ones bowed respectfully to the Master of Transcendence and smiled at Sihara. They circled around her in awe, pointing at her and then gaining courage and touching her clothes lightly. They whispered songs to her, as if their joy in meeting her was too much to contain, and Sihara felt embraced.
Now another door opened. The Master of Transcendence walked down a spiral staircase carved into the wall, followed by Sihara and the ten Transparent Ones. The more they descended the wider and more luminous the cave appeared. Finally, they stood in a small, bright room with nearly transparent white walls and a carved, decorative wooden door. Above the door the word: Archives appeared in golden letters and underneath a picture of a great white tree was engraved. Its roots were thin, and spread out in all directions, its trunk was wide and its branches reached upwards. The child opened the wooden door and said to Sihara: “The Transparent Ones shall accompany you inside, and their light shall help you find what belongs to you. Remember, you can continue searching as long as the light of the Transparent Ones shines bright. Once their light begins to dim, you must immediately return to the door, for you will not be able to find your way out in the dark.” He was then silent for a moment, extending his hand in a blessing: “The voice of your heart shall guide the way, and the Light of the Transcendor shall protect you.”
The ten Transparent Ones skipped like children as they walked through the doorway, followed by Sihara. Their light was a sharp blue. Sihara was amazed to find herself in a magnificent underground kingdom. The walls looked like frozen waterfalls, their colors changing from light green to delicate blue, and strewn with silvery strings.
“Here are good intentions,” pointed one Transparent One toward a blue- colored wall.
“And here are pure thoughts,” another Transparent One said as he bowed towards her, as if presenting one of his own creations.
“Holy words,” pointed another toward a frozen waterfall.
“And of course,” a fourth Transparent One continued, “true deeds.”
“The Master of Transcendence gathers them,” explained the first.
“Or more accurately, exposes them,” said the second.
“Even if they were extinguished, imprisoned or lost, for years or generations, by the forces of darkness,” the third added seriously and Sihara looked into their eyes, attempting to understand.
Now, they were approaching a large cave.
“This is how it transpires,” said one of the Transparent Ones.
The light of the Transparent Ones illuminated the cave and colored the bare walls in blue. There was a large window in the farthest wall, and Sihara slowly approached it, peering through the glass. The room, visible through the window, was illuminated brightly.
“Careful!” said a few of the Transparent Ones in unison but Sihara did not understand their words of caution. She noticed the crimson-yellow colored bricks being tossed into disorganized piles, as though someone had collected them hastily and dropped them off just as haphazardly. Farther away, Sihara noticed a silver table that held one single brick. A Transparent One with a golden flame leaned over it gently, like a shaman crouching over his patient, seeking to cure him.
He then placed his hands over the brick, as if he were fighting with it or something inside it. Steam arose from the brick as if it were heated by his hands. Sihara felt tense. “Careful!” repeated one of the Transparent Ones, and Sihara understood that they were talking to their golden-flamed companion on the other side of the window. Silvery veins, transparent and nearly alive, were now visible in the silent stone. The outer layer cracked and the stone split. The Transparent One reached inside gently, as if he were touching a new baby, and extracted something. The Transparent Ones, observing the scene, let out a sigh of relief.
“Pure silver, clear as a tear,” one of them said, summarizing his friend’s success.
“This is life itself!” said his friend respectfully.
“The good intentions?” wondered Sihara.
“And the pure thoughts,” replied one of the Transparent Ones, “and the holy words too, and of course, true deeds.” Sihara closed her eyes and pictured the daunting wall of the Tower. The crimson-yellow colored bricks that composed it were crying out to her.
“The Master of Transcendence shall collect and expose it all!” she spoke to them in her thoughts, “wait for him, he is your hope.”
After spending some time in the cave, Sihara entered a small purple side-room. In amazement, she touched the objects she found there. Each object was more exquisitely beautiful than the next. Everything was made of a delicate, thin, almost transparent substance and intricately designed. Precious stones had been set into the objects, and they were adorned with a multitude of thin strings. From a distance, the strings looked like glimmering water droplets, but up close they appeared as newly budding leaves. Their inner green color seemed to almost burst through the thin veins. Sihara moved closer, touched another object and was amazed to discover that the metal strings bent to the touch of her hand, like the stem of a plant. Suddenly she realized that various colored leaves adorned each and every object in the room.
“Everything is growing here!” she exclaimed to the Transparent Ones, and then she recalled the splendorous tree she had seen etched in the wooden door. She noticed that the light of the Transparent Ones was beginning to dim and she remembered the instructions of the Master of Transcendence: when the light dims, you must return to the door.
She was overcome with fear! Overwhelmed by the spectacular display, she had completely forgotten her goal. Quickly, she must choose an object. But how could she make such a decision? What was truly essential to her?
The voice of your heart shall guide the way, and the Light of the Transcendor shall protect you, she remembered the Master of Transcendence’s blessing. Her heart was telling her that everything had a special value. But how was she to know what to choose? The light of the Transparent Ones was growing dimmer still.
“No!” cried Sihara fearfully “I cannot go! I have not yet chosen anything. Help me!”
“Take this one,” all ten Transparent Ones pointed in unison to a deep purple branch adorned with tiny green leaves. In its center was a pulsating white line.
“Its value is purity of heart,” they said.
To be continued.
***
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