Archive for the Sacred Geometry Category

One Million Square Foot Conversion

Posted in Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 20, 2012 by javedbabar

Angstrom stepped out of the limousine. He was greeted by a woman in a sharp blue skirt-suit and flat black shoes; even in those, she was taller than he was. Her red hair was striking, in a similar way to the top of a match.

She smiled as if on demand and said, “Good morning, Mr Angstrom. Mr Haza thanks you for coming at short notice. Have you visited this building before?”

Angstrom said, “I did many years back when it was a storage depot. I came here with my father. It was the biggest building that I had ever seen. I wanted to visit all the floors and walk every corridor, and when we had to leave, I cried.”

The woman smiled on demand again and said, “Well, we hope this visit doesn’t end the same way.”

Angtrom tried to remember if he’d visited again during the time it was a factory, but couldn’t recall. How long had it been lying empty now? He had seen the For Sale sign go up, and remain for years, before coming down. He had briefly thought of buying the place himself, but how would he raise the money and what would he do with it?

He imagined creating an artwork called Infinity by filling the whole place with mirrors. There were ten floors of one hundred thousand square feet each. It would seem go on forever. Rather than a place of economic production, consumption and child rearing, it would be a place of self-reflection. We are all nomads between lives.

The woman indicated a small room on the top floor and said, “Mr Haza would like you to turn this space into a luxury suite for his private use.”

“Just this space?” said Angstrom. “It is barely one hundred square feet.”

“Yes, Mr Haza is not an ostentatious man. His preferred style is simple. Will you consider the commission?”

“Not if I am being paid by the square foot!” said Angstrom.

The woman smiled and said, “No, there will be a fee reflecting your professional stature. Mr Haza is aware that you are considered by many to be the best architect in Arcadia.”

Angstrom started work on the job that week He designed a self-contained studio, a place of comfort and light, related to the rest of the building but apart from it, creating a harmonious juncture. It was a jewel in a trunk of armour. A soprano with her mouth closed in the sea.

When he took the plans for sign off, the woman said, “Mr Haza is pleased with what you’ve done so far. He requests that you expand the scale of the design to become a one thousand square foot apartment.”

Angstrom was used to clients testing him with a little project before instructing him on a larger one. He designed the one thousand square foot apartment, creating a masterpiece of open dynamics and gentle flow, with multi-use, multi-occupancy potential.

When he took these plans for sign off, the woman said that he should expand the scale to a 10,000 square foot home. A month later he had done so. She then requested that he scale this across an entire floor to create a 100,000 square foot legacy project This was further expanded to fill the entire million square feet. Money was no object, he was told. It should be built to last forever.

Angstrom realized that the task had changed from a physical conception of home, as a place of residence and refuge, to a virtual one, in computer terminology, a starting view. One tiny space had taken over the whole building. He had a fresh challenge now, how to keep a tiny space – say 100 square feet – of the original structure. It was important to preserve heritage.

Spine Knot Syndrome

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 19, 2012 by javedbabar

Amir went to the Ancient Asian Acupuncture clinic. He had a strange lump at the base of his spine. It wasn’t troubling him really, there was no irritation or pain, he couldn’t even call it a swelling. It seemed like a misplaced knuckle on his back.

He felt throbbing which felt energetic rather than depleting. He had picked up this terminology from his old girlfriend, Shakti, who claimed to be a yogini and had introduced him to Tantric Sex. This was like normal sex but favoured women.

Incense and gymnastics were involved, and it went on forever. Shakti scored every time, but things went on for so long that he sometimes failed. Despite his best efforts, she left him for her guru eventually, a rascal named Ozwald Malchizedek, aka OM. Amir had met him a few times and…

His doctor said, “Amir, please come in. Yes, I have looked into the matter. You have a bolus connected to all seven nerve centres. I found references in ancient textbooks to SKS: Spine Knot Syndrome, which arises from energetic imbalance, but can also be beneficial. Think of it as grit in an oyster creating extreme irritation, and the oyster produces layer upon layer of material to coat the grit and make it bearable. The result is a gleaming pearl, prized worldwide.”

“I don’t get it,” said Amir. “What’s happening to my body?”

“Okay, relax, you are tensing the right side of your body. Let it go, and again, good, that’s it. You’ve had a nerve trauma, entirely energetic, but you can see the physical manifestation. The affected part sends signals to every part of your body crying ‘Help!’

“As energetic conductors your nerves follow spiritual principles, such as Love thy neighbor as thyself. They greet the damaged nerve and make it welcome.”

Amir shifted. The doctor said, “Please be still. I am sensing the best treatment.”

After five minutes he said, “Okay, I’ve got it. What’s the best way of explaining it to you? Erm…Okay, I’ll try a domestic analogy. The body is like a house, and each part is a room. I’ll run through your physical real estate from bottom to top.

“Your bowels are your basement, where unwanted items accumulate, and they should be emptied regularly.

“Your genitals are your bathroom, a place to expel unwanted fluids, maybe an en-suite bathroom, leading on to the bedroom.

“Your stomach is your kitchen, full of food.

“Your heart is your lounge, a place you meet people or rest alone.

“Your throat is your entry hall, where you chit-chat in passing.

“Your third eye is your bedroom, where you sleep and dream.

“Lastly – we could say, ultimately – your crown is your loft, a place of elevated thoughts.

“Your house is looking shabby though. Are you ready for some renovations?”

After a month of weekly sessions, Amir found that he was eliminating more toxins, having less sex, eating less food, watching less TV, chatting less, sleeping less, and meditating more often. He was transforming into an energetically integrated being.

He was also becoming smug and irritating. Not everyone saw the oyster forming inside the pearl. People rolled their eyes when he spoke of his “physical real estate”, and began to avoid him. Amir was in a knotty bind.

Clarity

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on October 13, 2012 by javedbabar

The final quality specified in the Jobs of the Future program was Clarity, without which the others – pattern recognition, common sense, creativity, imagination, people skills, and technical awareness – were useless. If you couldn’t focus on the job in hand, you wouldn’t get anywhere. It was as clear as that.

One of Shama’s many jobs in the city had been working in a jewelry shop. He mostly sold low-end stuff to poor people, but the shop’s owner also had private clients whose goods were of a higher order.

One day the boss had entered the sales floor as Shama was describing gems as “just bits of glass that look quite similar”. He told him to stop right there – not with anger, but with curtness – and to follow him into the back room. Shama wondered if he was about to get fired. He was in fact about to get educated.

Diamonds were removed from velvet bags and scattered on the table before him.

He was told about their 4 C’s.

The owner said, “Carat is a unit of mass used for gemstones, equal to 0.2 grams. The word comes from the Greek keration, meaning carob seed, which was a unit of weight used to measure gold.

Colour of a diamond is affected by chemical impurities or structural defects in the crystal lattice. A perfect diamond has no hue, but in reality no gem-sized natural diamonds are colorless. This can be a good or bad thing. If they are a little yellow this detracts from their value, but pink or blue enhances their worth. Red diamonds are the rarest and most valuable.

Cut does not refer to the shape of the diamond, which may be oval, round, or pear, but to its symmetry, proportion and polish. The cut impacts the brilliance, so a poorly cut diamond will be less luminous, and a well cut diamond will blaze with fire.

Clarity is the most important quality. It relates to the visual appearance of internal elements called inclusions, and surface defects called blemishes. Inclusions can be classified as clouds, feathers, knots, cavities, cleavage, bearding or graining. Blemishes can be polish lines, grain boundaries, naturals, scratches, nicks, pits, chips or breaks. Most flaws are tiny, but clarity grade is assigned based upon appearance under ten-times magnification.”

The owner gave him a lens to view the diamonds.

Shama witnessed hidden worlds of light that filled his mind and heart. It was no wonder that kings, pirates and princesses lusted after them. Each diamond’s interior seemed like outer space, or maybe he should call it inner space. It was a place of endless wonder. There were black holes and supernovae, shooting stars and solar flares. Universes being created, destroyed, and recreated.

He never forgot the lesson in the back room, which gave him new vision. Now there was a new problem. He couldn’t focus on shop front activity without being distracted by flecks of light.

Shama buzzed Sue and asked her to join him in his office. Her thoughts were always helpful, and he was starting to like her. He was shocked to see a new ring on her finger with a high quality 3 carat, Mazarin-cut diamond. Was it her old engagement ring, from her ex-husband? Or was it from a husband-to-be?

Shama couldn’t focus on the job in hand. His cognitive processes engaged in selective focus. His mental resources were allocated to the diamond ring. It took possession of his mind in clear and vivid form. Other simultaneously possible objects were excluded. There was a focalization, a concentration, a withdrawal from alternative thoughts.

There was also a withdrawal of Sue’s hand from view. He had made her self-conscious, and her focus right now was on someone else.

Lightning Strikes

Posted in Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 29, 2012 by javedbabar

The previous Building Control Officer had approved many big projects. Looking through the files, Shama saw a 500 metre suspension bridge, a moated castle in the forest, and a medium sized Chinese palace.

Whether any of these had ever been built was hard to say. Admin was not his predecessor’s strong suit. There were partially legible application forms and “APPROVED” stamps, but very few maps, plans, budgets or schedules.

A file named “SKYSCRAPER” caught his eye. It was, fittingly, near the top of the very tall stack of applications on his desk. There were also further documents in the file. Not too many but enough to make his eyes pop.

They detailed a thousand metre high skyscraper in the shape of a lightning bolt, to be built over ten years, with a budget of $1 billion. He checked the file’s status. It said “APPROVED” Was this a joke? Did somebody really intend to build it in the valley?

The map indicated that the site was in the Upper Valley, around the bend at Camel Mountain. If it was being built, that’s why he hadn’t seen it – it wasn’t yet visible, but it certainly would be when topped out.

Shama jumped into his truck and drove to the Upper Valley. He thought,  you can’t have a structure like that here! It will overwhelm everything in the valley!

But then he thought, would it really? Maybe the sculpture would form a relationship with natural features, the mountains, forests and rivers, and the sky, which produced the lightning providing its inspiration. Didn’t such firebolts connect heaven and earth?

As he rounded Camel Mountain, the structure came into view. It was almost complete! But it wasn’t a thousand metres high – nowhere near. Arcadian firs nearby were almost its equal.

They must have changed plans. Shama didn’t know if he was relieved or disappointed.

The construction site was filled with activity. Crews were working at full speed. Shama asked for the foreman. A carpenter pointed to the top of the lightning bolt. “You can go up,” he said. “He isn’t coming down this morning.”

“It’s been a strange project,” said the foreman. “It started off as the world’s tallest building. I’m amazed that the plans were even approved. Rumour has it that the client is the same person who approved it – Lucerne’s old Building Control Officer. It has nothing to do with the village though; it is an entirely private project.

“Have you ever met him?” asked Shama.

“I can’t say that I have. But I’ll tell you this. If he can afford to build this structure, then he’s done pretty well for himself. You’ve chosen a good profession, my friend. I get the impression there are many benefits to the job.”

He winked and continued, “But you can’t take it with you, he knows that. I’ve heard he’s sick; really sick. This is going to be his memorial, but he’s only got one year left, not ten like he’d thought. That’s why it’s going to be one hundred metres high, and not a thousand, and the budget’s been cut to one hundred million. But if we get it done in time, we all get to share what’s left.”

He made a move to go, saying, “Nice to meet you, but I must get back to work now. This is one project that is definitely coming in on time and on budget. We’ve never had a nine hundred million dollar incentive before.”

Crazy Mixed Up Fun

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 28, 2012 by javedbabar

Shama was enjoying his new job as Lucerne’s Building Control Officer. He was unqualified for the role but they were in desperate need, and his casual labour experience had somehow made him top contender.

He pulled a file from the stack that arose from his desk towards the heavens. It was marked “GIANT SCULPTURE” and stamped “STAGE ONE APPROVED”.

Details however were scanty. There was an undated MOA, Memorandum of Understanding, between Lucerne Village and Guru Baba’s office saying that a “giant sculpture” could be built “in the centre of the valley” whose “precise form and dimensions are yet to be determined.” The document was yellowed, with strong key impressions and whiteouts, with no diagrams or illustrative references. It seemed manually typewritten many years back.

How could a giant structure be approved without any details at all? For all they knew it could be a giant swastika, or a huge phallus. Someone was just pushing problems down the line. The buck must stop somewhere, and as BCO it was most likely with him.

No wonder the previous guy had disappeared. It seemed he was mixed up in shady business, letting people build whatever they wanted, probably in exchange for “donations” from Guru Baba’s people or construction companies. But would Guru Baba, one of the world’s leading holy men, really be involved in a dodgy scheme? It was probably the builders.

Shama had seen a large scaffold near the middle of the valley, and trucks entering the worksite, and also a crane. Good for them, he’d thought back then, creating high-paying local jobs. It must be there. They may have half-built it already; he had better take a look.

The security guard wouldn’t let him on site. He called the project manager, who roared up ten minutes later. He was an Indian fellow wearing an orange hard hat. “Hello, I am Karamchand. I hear you are the new BCO. Are you new in town? Welcome to the valley!”

Shama was surprised by his friendliness; he was not surly or secretive at all. “I am interested in the sculpture construction,” he said. “How is Stage One progressing?”

“It is taking longer than we expected.” Karamchand winked at Shama. “But who is counting, hey?”

So there is some funny business, thought Shama. Stretching out the construction schedule, drawing out funds. Maybe it’s money laundering.

Shama felt that he should leave, but his curiosity got the better of him. He said, “What is it going to be? My documents seem to be incomplete.”

The complex scaffold gave no clue to the hidden structure’s purpose. What he discerned was a huge cube and wheel. He had heard the expression “squaring the circle”. Was it something to do with that?

“Oh yes, of course. You are new. I have only been working on the project for ten years myself, but I will tell you what I know.” Shama looked around. The entire construction crew was Indian.

“Guru Baba has designed the structure based upon Vedic mathematics, with associated mantras and yantras built into the forms. It is a fusion of East and West, and inspired by the word fun, which means art in Hindi. It is a Rubik’s Cube with four hundred and thirty two faces, each one of which rotates in turn – one every thousand years. Its structural dynamics and electromagnetics ensure that there will be zero wear and tear.

“All permutations are accounted for. In four hundred and thirty two thousand years, it will complete one cycle, and mark the end of Kali Yuga – the current Dark Age. Of course we are part way through this Age already, so we will start the cycle five thousand years in. I will detail all this for you in the Stage Two MOA.”

Old Tree House

Posted in Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on September 25, 2012 by javedbabar

It was Shama’s second day as Lucerne’s Building Control Officer, a job he was unqualified for professionally, but which had been offered to him for double his usual salary, which he had accepted. He began looking through the files on his desk.

“A tree house?” he said to himself. “Do you need permission for that?”

He asked the receptionist. “Yes,” she said. “Anything over one hundred square feet needs permission, whether below, upon, or above ground. That’s what the last person occupying your position told me. There are exemptions, but very few.”

“What happened to him? The last person. I can’t find any record of his name.”

She looked away. “It was a bad situation. We’re not supposed to talk about it.” He continued to look at her, and she said, “I’ll tell you later.”

The Old Tree House file was stamped “REJECTED”. There was no further explanation inside. Shama decided to investigate the matter.

He drove to the location, a farm fifteen kilometres up the valley. It was always a joy travelling up the Lucerne Valley Road, driving from the white mountain towards the dark one, passing shining forests and sparkling rivers, and glittering lakes with leaping rainbow fishes. It seemed like gems of many sizes had been scattered along his path, or maybe the whole valley was one vast gem, reflecting and refracting light across everything within it.

There was something strange about the farm. There were fences, gates and barns as expected, containing cattle, horses and pigs. There were flowering bushes and huge red trees. What was strange then? He realized that there were no tractors or trucks, no wires or machinery of any kind. This place was not mechanized. It was a Luddite farm.

An old lady emerged from the farmhouse. “Come in,” she said. “I heard you coming up the road. Have some tea and banana bread.”

Her lounge was presided over by a wind-up grandfather clock. There were candles burning, despite it being morning. She noticed him looking. “They’re to purify the air,” she said, “And to welcome the sun.”

She poured the tea and said, “You must be the new BCO. You look better than the other fellow, I’ll say, but you’re probably a rascal too. What business is it of yours? I’m fed up with these floods. I’ve seen all the big ones – ’38, ’64, ’84, 2004. And believe me, there’s another one coming – this year or early next. Don’t you see the pattern in the years? Ah, never mind, you educated folk never do.”

Shama liked this old woman and said, “Yes, I am the new BCO. I’ve come to reconsider the situation.”

“What do you mean?” She was suspicious. “Reconsider what?”

“The tree house. With all these floods, it makes sense to live above ground. But I have to ensure the use of proper methods and materials. I see you are a Luddite. How will you build it without power?”

“Without power? Like everything else! We’ll use ropes and levers and pulleys; we’ve got horses and cattle too.”

“Won’t your livestock drown in the flood?”

“Of course they won’t. We’ll haul them up too.”

He said, “But what if the tree died, or gave way?”

She gave him a patronizing smile, and pointed to the huge red trees everywhere. “These are Arcadian Firs. They’ve been here for over a thousand years. How long has your village hall been there?” Shama didn’t know. “I’ll tell you how long – twenty eight years. The last one was flooded and rotted out. I’ll take my chances with the trees. They will last much longer than any of your buildings.”

When he returned to the office, Shama changed the status of the Old Tree House file to “APPROVED”.

Future Church

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , on September 24, 2012 by javedbabar

Shama had performed casual labour over the years, but was not a trained builder, never mind a member of the International Code Council. He was totally unqualified for the job of Building Control Officer. The situation in Lucerne was dire though; they needed a BCO immediately, and he was offered the job without him asking.

The previous BCO had disappeared, and so had his diary. Shama had no idea of his schedule. The best thing was to just sit and wait. At ten past ten a call came through on the main switchboard. “Good morning!” said a cheery male voice. “I’ve been trying to get hold of a BCO for a month now, but without success. I hear you’ve taken the position. How’s your day looking?”

Shama said, “Erm, I have some windows available.” He had heard project managers use this term on site. Windows. It seemed appropriate for construction projects.

“That’s great! You guys are usually so busy that we wait for weeks. There must be a dip in the building trade. My name’s Simon. What time shall I come over?”

Shama didn’t want him to come over. There was a huge stack of papers, a wall of manuals, a pile of lego bricks, and a playground of executive toys in his office. They gave the impression that he sat around amusing himself and rarely bothered with work. It would be better to meet the applicant at his place. It would provide a better idea of the project too. Shama said, “I’ll come to you at two.”

“You’re coming here? Really? Uh-oh! What have I done? You guys never come here otherwise…”

“That’s not the case,” said Shama, fiddling with lego bricks on his desk. He built a red squat structure. He also set chrome balls swinging to knock it down. “It makes more sense for me to see what you’re doing there. I will understand the big picture. Drawings and forms are only indications. I’d rather see what is going on.”

“That’s a healthy attitude you’ve got there, son.”

Shama wondered how the man knew his age. He must have a young voice. The man gave him the address and told him to “keep his eyes peeled” for the driveway, which was “your usual two tire tracks in the bush”.

Shama drove twenty kilometres out of town in the BCO’s truck – a silver Nissan Frontier. It was too clean and shiny for a work truck. Did the previous guy ever do any work? Shama found the driveway and drove right in.

In the centre of a cleared half-acre was a strange metal structure. It was like a small space ship that had landed there, with a blast radius around it. Had the guy burnt out the clearing? Maybe the structure had been dropped in by helicopter.

An alien appeared. It turned out to be Simon, wearing green overalls and goggles. He said, “It was already here when I bought the land. I want to extend it. It reminds me of a small chapel and I want to build a three-storey tower next to it, so it looks like a futuristic church – you know one of those English medieval ones, but in metal.”

This was unconventional, thought Shama, but imagine the sweeping views from the tower, and echoing river sounds in the chapel. Most seekers find solace alone. This would be a great spot. You could aspire to the heavens, then be baptized in the river, and walk within the Garden of Eden. Imagine how much professional people would pay to rent this. A thousand a week? It could kick-start spiritual tourism in the area.

He said to Simon, “Okay, go ahead.”

Crazy Heart

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , , on September 22, 2012 by javedbabar

Dimpy received a phone call. She answered immediately, saying, “Hello, Lucerne Village Hall, Wedding Registration Dept.”

A man’s unsteady voice said, “Do both partners have to come in?” He was nervous, she could tell.

“Yes, they do.” She listened intently, trying to gauge his voice. Was he nervous because he had learnt what to say and now that he had started the process, his heart was beating fast, and his tongue, erratic? “Is that a problem for you?”

“No, no, no, there isn’t. We’ll both be there. I promise.”

She said, “Excuse me, who am I…?” but there was no one there. He must have rung off. Her job was to confirm that people were engaging in legitimate unions rather than shams. Maybe she was being too scary with callers.

Two days later there was a commotion downstairs. She heard doors banging and someone shouting. It sounded as if a person tripped and fell. Was it those kids causing trouble again? Where was security? She’d better go and check.

A small man stood in the hallway, stiffly, looking lost. His eyes were dead and unmoving. Was he blind? He didn’t have dark glasses or a white stick though.

A large woman with a yellow and blue patterned dress, and a mess of dyed black hair, arose from the ground. It was she that had fallen.

It was clear that the man couldn’t see her; he must be blind… yet there was such a strange impression created by his sightless eyes that Dimpy dare not speak.

It was the look of love, and she stood as its silent witness.

There was also something incredible – supernatural – in the woman’s smile. Despite being sighted, she wasn’t smiling at him; she didn’t seem to see him either; instead her eyes rolled around continuously and her head followed their motion.

“Hello!” the man called out. “Is somebody there? I heard you coming out of your office.”

“Yes, I’m the Registrar of Weddings, Dimpy.”

“Ah, good to meet you at last. We spoke earlier this week. We have a two p.m. appointment with you, but I’m afraid we are one hour early.”

“Oh, yes, please come up. Can you… come up? Do you need help?”

“No thank you, I can make it up. I am very independent; I have been so for many years now. The only real problems have been caused by my beloved Samantha who insists on helping me around. The first time that she forced me to cross the road with her almost caused my death!”

Samantha, smoothing her hair, her eyes still rolling, said, “Yes I have no sense of co-ordination. I am always unbalanced and I am scared of going out. I used to get so angry about it until I saw this amazing man one day” – she looked at her fiancé – “Blind, but so accepting. He was content with his life. My heart beat all around my body, even more than usual, and my movements were uncontrollable. I wanted to help him across the road but I almost helped him somewhere else.” They both began laughing.

“Come on then, love,” he said, offering her his hand. “Let’s go up.”

“It won’t be necessary,” said Dimpy. “I’ve seen all I need to see. You wait here. I will do all the paperwork for you.”

A small man and a large woman; she, afraid of light, and he, not afraid of dark; standing still and always moving; yin and yang; their union was perfect.

Mystical Meeting

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , on August 31, 2012 by javedbabar

After the village fertility ritual, they rested awhile. Sami lay down at the foot of the fir tree that was decorated with bright ribbons. Guru Baba sat in lotus position beneath a cherry tree. He reminded Sami that he’d given him the day off so that he could “stay up working”.

“We can only rest for half an hour,” he said. “Then there’s someone you must meet. He’s only around for a little while longer, and then he’s gone.”

“Gone where?” said Sami. “If he’s in the village we can see him tomorrow.”

“No! It must be tonight! There is no tomorrow!”

Sami knew when he’d pushed his holy bossman too far. He set his alarm for half an hour later – 4.12am – and went to sleep.

When the alarm went off, Guru Baba continued sitting, snoring.

Should I wake him or leave him? Sami wondered. He decided he’d better wake him, or there would be trouble.

Guru Baba tried to swat his hand away as if it were a fly. Then he opened one eye, then closed it and opened the other one, then suddenly both; they almost popped out. He said, “Are you ready to meet the man in the moon?”

“What do you mean?” said Sami. “We’ve been with him all night.” They had been watching, talking about, and walking around beneath the full moon. What more was there to do?

“No!” said Guru Baba. “You haven’t met him yet, you’ve just had an introduction. The real meeting is yet to come. Now go home quickly and change. This time into smart clothes. Do you have a suit? Yes? Good, wear it, with a tie and good shoes. Make sure they’re polished.”

“Do I have to, Guru Baba? It’s four-thirty a.m. It’s still dark, and I’m tired, and cold…”

“Do it! Go home and change! Come back by five a.m.”

Sami went home grudgingly. He couldn’t see the way ahead clearly and walked through the field’s boggiest parts. His boots became pretty muddy; he’d better be more careful when returning.

His suit needed ironing, but who would notice at this time? If anything, in these parts he’d get beaten up for looking too smart. He returned at 5.01am, ready to be scolded.

Guru Baba was in lotus position once again. He opened one eye and said, “Stand there in the middle of the field.”

The full moon beamed strongly. Sami stared up at it. It looked like a searchlight.

Guru Baba said, “Now turn around. Meet the most important person you’ve ever met.”

Sami turned around but there was no one there.

“Look at the ground.”

There was Sami’s shadow, long and deep and dark.

Guru Baba pointed at the glowing orb above them, and said, “Like the moon, you have light and dark sides. One is apparent and one is hidden. You must remain alert.” He pointed at Sami’s shadow. “You need to always be smarter than him, or he will become your master.”

Tingling Bells

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Organic Farming, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on August 30, 2012 by javedbabar

Sami touched his own face with fear, and shouted, “Guru Baba! What has happened to me?”

His cheeks were now hairy, his eyebrows met in the middle, and his teeth were sharp. Even his fingernails were curved and pointed. He scratched his own skin and shouted again, “What has happened to me?”

Guru Baba was also different. He was sharp and hairy too.

One night each year the citizens of Lucerne shape-shifted and became Hounds of God. Known commonly as werewolves, they were thought to be evil and feared.

In truth there was nothing to fear. The spring moon caused this transformation, bringing people back into tune with nature. It reminded them of their reliance upon the holy land.

“Look at the cherry trees,” said Guru Baba. “Look how they bow down. It is also their night of humility. It shows the great debt they carry to Mother Earth, which can never be repaid.”

Sami was panicking. “But why is it happening? Is this why you brought me here – to change me into a monster?”

Guru Baba reached out with a furry hand, and Sami drew back his claws. “It’s precisely the opposite of that, Sami. We do this to avoid becoming monsters. We reconnect with nature. We become whole and true.”

Sami was shouting without meaning to; he couldn’t control his thoughts. “Then why all the robes and mumbo-jumbo? You tell people to repeat mantras, to meditate, to pray. Why do they need all that? What good does that do?”

He wanted to stay far away from Guru Baba, but dark shapes emerging from the forest caused him to draw closer to the sage. Guru Baba put his arm around Sami and said, “It gives you peace of mind. Tonight is what gives you peace of heart.”

The full moon bathed the field in brightness. All around them dark beings advanced, heading towards the circle of cherry trees. The Headman of the village, the seventh generation of a pioneer family mixed with native blood, came towards Guru Baba. He bowed and said, “Master of the Holy Ceremony, shall we begin?”

Guru Baba said, “Yes, let us begin.”

The dark beings adjusted items on their bodies and came forward together. Their tingling bells frightened evil spirits away. Their clashing sticks announced the fight between good and evil.

Guru Baba crowned Sami with a wreath woven of cherry branches. Sami’s body then seemed to move of its own accord. He weaved in and out of the thousand dark beings converging, and led them to a tall fir tree. They decorated the tree by hanging bread soaked in beer from its low branches, and poured more beer on its roots. They lit and stamped out small fires around it. They passed around a bowl of herb liquor, all taking sips. They sang bits of nursery rhymes together, and then Guru Baba produced a shotgun from beneath his robes.

Sami’s heart fell. So this was it.

Guru Baba smiled as he shot the gun in the air to wake up the tree for the coming season. He was greatly honoured that Lucerne’s citizens had asked him to oversee their yearly fertility ritual. Yes, he was a famous holy man, but he was also quite new in town.

They tied bright ribbons around the tree and danced in rotation.

The ribbons all wrapped around the trunk, creating a colourful, spiralling pattern.

The code of life was cracked for another season.