Encounter with the Inner Self

Warriors of Transcendence, Part 42
 
The fourth day:
 
“Dance for me,” he says.
 
His cloak hangs shabbily upon his body; he faces me with his back to the sea. He smiles confidently, somewhat amused. Only now do I notice his eyes: they are as deep and as good as the eyes of the child in the tent. But why do they express pain? 
 
“I? Dance?” I had never considered myself talented in this art.
 
“You asked to do something for me, did you not?”
 
I sense the disappointment in his voice and fervently wish to avoid disappointing him again. ‘Again?’ I suddenly wonder, ‘when did I disappoint him previously?’
 
Tzalaii begins to hum a quiet tune. He is telling me about himself. He suddenly appears so human, so shy, and I sense that he longs for my closeness. Despite being greatly disappointed in me in the past, he is still willing to renew our friendship.
 
“Will you be my guide?” I ask.
 
“Dance!” his eyes are suddenly angry.  
 
My acceptance as his student, friend and companion depend upon this dance! And then he produces a five-stringed instrument, unfamiliar to me, and in the softest, most tranquil voice repeats the words, again and again: “You are the heart of the world”, as he plays. He accompanies me with his song, but I understand that the words are not being directed to me.  But to whom?   I do not know.
 
Do we both need to yearn for the mysterious Heart of the World, expressing ourselves in song and dance? This, too, I do not know, but the melody begins to pulsate within my head. My lips begin uttering his words and Tzalaii smiles an almost invisible smile, as he watches the power of his song wash over me. A profound clarity and serenity descend upon the world, as if the two of us are its sole inhabitants, as though we would live in this place eternally, participants in a ceremony ordained for us many eons ago. The wind whirls around us, and golden grains of sand dance upon our flapping capes. The waves wash over the soft, velvety sand at our feet, crashing down gently and then subsiding.
 
“And now,” says Tzalaii  in a slightly louder voice, “you are to be born.”
 
His simple words invoke sheer panic in me and I desire to flee, never to see his face again.  With great effort, I exert myself to keep my eyes closed thereby preserving the crucial scene. It is clear to me that my current choice is vital. I must either devote myself entirely to the unknown, or escape as a coward back to my familiar world.
 
“Come,” whispers Tzalaii, and my fear dissipates as I rise upon my feet. It seems to me that everything around us is participating in our slow song: The sea, the sky, the sand and all else in the world that is beyond our understanding.  I feel clarity within clarity. Everything is so transparent, as though I can slowly pierce through all things with my words. My hands are raised to the heavens and my body begins to transcend on its own, expressing each and every word in motion: “You are the heart of the world.”
 
Sweetness inebriates my consciousness. Is this my dance? If so, there is nothing I would ever desire more than to transcend before the Heart of the World. Is this my birth? There is nothing sweeter. Why was I so fearful?
 
Sihara smiled at her brother. It was an empathetic smile, full of compassion and understanding for the process he was undergoing.  The two of them sat in a cave near a small spring of clear water. A few rays of light shone through the entrance of the cave, illuminating the depths of the wellspring. Tzalaii smiled for the first time in a while and said: “You know, Sihara, the exercise you told me to perform…”
 
“That the Master of Transcendence told you,” she corrected him.
 
Tzalaii ignored her comment.
 
“It is a strange exercise,” he continued. “At first, it was quite difficult for me, and then suddenly something in my heart opened. I felt like a young boy, when I herded the sheep in the fields by the village. I can remember when I sat in the green hills. The sheep were scattered throughout the valley, grazing, and I began to play a tune on my flute. The breeze caressed my face and I was happy. Suddenly, I had no need for anything, and even the deep pain I felt as an orphan entirely disappeared. “Sihara tossed a small stone into the water and nodded to herself: “Those were his exact words: “reconnect with yourself’.”
 
Tzalaii did not understand the link between his childhood memories and his encounter with the inner Tzalaii, so Sihara attempted to explain further: “This is your healing from the mark of the shadow.”
 
“You are already a Warrior of Transcendence,” Tzalaii said forlornly.  “But I don’t know very much.  What is the ‘mark of the shadow?’ Strange events are transpiring, and you seem to understand. How did you manage to learn so much during your short visit with the Master of Transcendence?”
 
“You too shall learn,” Sihara said apologetically. “You shall learn in your own way. And if you cannot reach the Master of Transcendence, he will find you.”
 
“I was taken to a horrible place,” Tzalaii said as his voice cracked, and once again he ignored her words. He was unable to shake off the vivid image in his mind of the tall man’s ominous smile, his fear of the underground soldier’s ability to pursue him and find him. He was still haunted by the man’s parting words: We shall meet again.
 
“I think you should continue with the exercise,” said Sihara. 
 
“Yes,” agreed Tzalaii with a sudden burst of determination. “I, too, must try to acquire the knowledge you have gained.”
 
The fifth day:
 
I look forward to meeting Tzalaii again. I try to imagine the beach, but nothing appears in my mind. My eyes are enveloped by darkness.
 
“Tzalaii,” I call out in the dark, “where are you, Tzalaii?”
 
“The beach is for children, an unfit scenario for a warrior,” a voice speaks in the back of my mind.
 
Where, then, am I to ask for my beloved teacher?
 
“This time, we shall meet between the shadows,” said Tzalaii.
 
My body tenses, and all at once I notice him, sitting cross-legged near a small bonfire deep in the dark desert. He points commandingly towards a simple canvas carpet on the other side of the fire. He loves me, no doubt. Our shared dance to the Heart of the World united us in a covenant of love that cannot be undone.
 
‘Is this setting necessary?’ I wonder, and Tzalaii answers: “This is the Wilderness Gate of the White Desert. This is where the Master of Transcendence trains his warriors.”
 
“I never aspired to become a warrior,” I say and try to open my eyes, but even with eyes wide open, I remain with him in the desert, and the fire hissing between us is the only sound that is heard.
 
“Now, there is nowhere for you to escape to,” says Tzalaii sharply, his image ascending and looming over me like a pillar of clouds, “for you have been born.”
“Accept your destiny with love,” he says, as though trying to persuade me to trust him and his words. “You are a warrior. A Warrior of the Master of Transcendence.”
 
“Yes,” I think to myself, “I asked for a guide to advise me. But I never imagined       he would be the one. I desired a leader to pave the way.  Is this the path of a warrior?”
 
Tzalaii says: “All sadness emanates from luxury. This is the first rule of the Master of Transcendence.”
 
Is this the beginning of my initiation training? Concern makes way for curiosity, and my heart listens to his words. Over the course of an hour, Tzalaii explains to me the principle of luxury, according to which everything that you don’t really need only harms you.
 
“The skills of a Master of Transcendence,” he says, “include being able to distinguish precisely between the necessary and the unnecessary, at all times. Even an extra word can make you vulnerable, weaken your inner strength and balance, and draw you into the shadows.”
 
“Precision brings protection,” Tzalaii summarizes. “Your life is sheltered from all evil, even in the face of the White Emperor himself. If your consciousness detects an unnecessary sight or sound, your spirit shall become cracked with a line of sadness. Sadness is the delicacy of the shadows. Open your eyes,” he finally orders.
 
His hand touches my heart as though he wants to carve his words there and he adds: “Remember everything and don’t forget.”
  
I open my eyes and again find myself in the Tunnels of Time. The entire vision- every word and sound uttered by Tzalaii, remain engraved in my heart.
 
To be continued.
  

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