Archive for dark mountain

Politics of the Soul

Posted in Conceptual Art, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry with tags , , , , , , , , , , , on December 31, 2012 by javedbabar

The figure emerging from the twisted light took shape. Sami said, “Sophie? Is that you? How did you know where to find me?”

“It wasn’t that hard,” she said. “The valley only goes one way – west, and smoke only goes one way – up.”

Sami was hiding in a cabin at the top of the Valley, near Kalash, fifty kilometres from Lucerne. The sudden attention since Guru Baba’s death had been hard for him to handle, and he had decided to hide.

The Valley’s residents had protected him from numerous officials, reporters and stalkers chasing him. It was amazing what some well-placed Firing Range and Blast Area signs could do. There was no longer a need for Sami to dress up in his gorilla suit and chase people through the bush, which also worked. Good job it wasn’t hunting season.

“Would you like some tea? Hang on, I’ll just put the kettle on.” He went into the strange metal cabin; she heard water pouring.

Sophie admired the dark, glinting solar panels affixed to the roof. Sami emerged and joined Sophie on a fallen log, and she asked, “What are you doing out here on your own? People are worried about you.”

“Guru Baba had a lifetime to get used to fame; it was gradual. When he kissed me that day and said, “It is you,” and died, my life changed immediately. I wasn’t ready for it. It seemed that I had no choice, but then I realized I did.”

“Is this your choice then, to stay here, far away from people?”

He reached out and held her hand. “Not all people. Sophie, I’m not sure what my choice is. I can either remain apart from the world, with all its temptations and evil ways, or I can engage with it, and do what little good I can.”

Cottonwoods around them rustled in a burst of wind. Their leaves caused light to dance.

“Who wouldn’t want to stay here?” said Sophie. “It’s so peaceful and beautiful. There’s no pollution, no noise, no crowds, no stress, no expense. Whenever I step out of the door in the village I’ve spent twenty bucks. In the city it’s fifty. Here you are self-sufficient in everything – energy, water, food, and peace is everywhere, not just when you put on your headphones or lock your room.”

They sat in silence, listening to the river gushing, and watched a white mule deer wander on the far shore.

Sami said, “Guru Baba’s last kiss held messages for me, but I may need years to understand them.”

He looked so perturbed; she held his other hand too.

Sami continued, “He told me many things while I was working as his assistant. I didn’t understand them all, but somehow his final kiss brought them together. He said that to build a good society you need good people and dynamic interaction. He said the heart is the body’s strongest generator of electro-magnetism, constantly changing the fields around us. He said that like attracts like, and if we build our ideal selves, we attract, reflect and refract universal matter in powerful ways. He said that psychic self-control is the highest art; to keep your head when all around you others are losing theirs; and he said the psychic realm is both a cosmic ocean and a personal drop.”

Sami’s attention returned to the twisted light running through the valley from Mt Alba, a white sentinel above the village, to Mt Negra, dark guard at its other end. He became quiet.

After a while Sophie said, “Well, there are two drops here. Shall we rejoin the sea together, and be good people building the good society he spoke of?”

Sami continued looking into the twisted light, and said, “Maybe you’re right. You usually are. Guru Baba said that karma is not driven by thoughts but by actions. Give me another week here alone, and then I’ll join you.”


Twisted Light

Posted in Conceptual Art, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , , , on December 30, 2012 by javedbabar

There is a strange light in the Lucerne Valley tonight, thought Sami. A twisted light, swirling within and around itself.

It seemed to connect Mt Alba, above the village, with Mt Negra at the valley’s far end, or should he say beginning, for that was the source of lava flows and later, water flows, which over millions of years carved out the Lucerne Valley.

A white cloud gathered around Mt Alba, and a dark cloud around Mt Negra, and they stretched out for a hundred kilometres, twisting around each other like a cosmic candy cane made of marshmallow and licorice.

Maybe such phenomena were usual at this time of year, like the afternoon wind called the Pineapple Express, and the spring and fall floods; all part of nature’s dance.

Since the strange events at the Transparent Temple, Sami felt deluded, denuded and partially destroyed. He was not himself. He couldn’t be. Who was he then?

He needed time – days, weeks, months, who knew? – to accept or reject the situation, to become Guru Baba’s successor or to leave this place for good, but people didn’t give him time.

“Hello, I am an Official from The Authority’s Spiritual Affairs Directorate. We would like to discuss your potential as…”

“Sami, should we now call you Sage Sami? I am reporting for the Holy Herald. Would you please tell our readers about the moment that…”

“Om Shanti, Sami, I come from Guru Baba’s ancestral village with a most humble request. We would be highly pleased if you…”

Right now Sami couldn’t handle his internal dialogue, never mind this external dialogue. He wished everybody would leave him alone. He had jumped at the invitation to use a friend’s cabin at the top of the valley, near Kalash.

The strange light kept glowing and flowing. The cosmic candy cane. At times it looked like a cheerless barber’s pole, or a swirling Slavic bread twist. It also looked like strands of DNA.

Sami’s mind returned to his science class project concerning the nature of light. He had explored light’s basic unit, the photon, and whether its primary nature was that of a particle or a wave. The accepted view was that it was both, and his grade twelve project did not dispute this, but he also looked into two kinds of angular momentum – spin and orbital.

Spin referred to motion like the earth’s spinning around its axis. Orbital referred to motion like the earth’s revolution around the sun. Both could be seen in light.

Sami had asked if these energy forms could be used to transmit information, and discovered that they could. Using MIMO – Multiple Input and Multiple Output – transmission massively boosted data transfer rates. However, his experiments in the school lab were not successful. Instead of twisted light, he had created an optical vortex, where light waves cancelled each other out. That was the opposite of what he wanted to show.

But here, now, before him was the cosmic candy cane, a black and white twist of light, seeming to carry the whole world’s illumination. Was he dancing around it, or was it dancing around him. He watched the twisted light all night, and at dawn, a figure appeared within it and walked towards him.

Was this a trick of the light?

Was this a twist of the light?

Was this a kiss of the light?

Creative Journey

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, Unknown, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 11, 2012 by javedbabar

The man left the myriad reflections of the crystal cave and climbed again, braving the upper slopes of the dark mountain. He was above the tree line, negotiating bare rock patches and loose rocks. His groping caused a few rocks to tumble. Most rolled freely though some caused small slides. The chances of another person being below him were remote. He was unconcerned.

It took a full day of climbing to reach the top. It wasn’t pretty up there, just bare black rock with shattered masses, but the view down the valley was stunning. He saw the turquoise lake, down the black river, and the forests and fields along its sides. He couldn’t see Lucerne village because of a bend in the valley, but he saw the white mountain towering above it like a guard.

A week ago he had awoken atop this white mountain, unknown and alone, feeling compelled to reach its dark sister. Now he was here. To what end?

What should he do in this inhospitable terrain?

It seemed the end of a pointless journey.

There was nowhere else to go.

He saw a flat rock whose top flashed strongly. Its surface was flush as if carved by a master, and a mark upon it caught his eye. It was another petroglyph, like those he’d seen at the crystal cave indicating ascension and expansion, but his one was pointing in three directions at once – everywhere. What was its meaning?

A sunset ravished and hued the valley golden, then eased into bronze, then silver. The man from the mountain sat on the flat rock. He recreated his journey here – from the white mountain, to the village, past farms, along the river, through forest, staying at the strange steel cabin, four nights of passion at Samhala, exploring his soul’s facets at the crystal cave, and finally completing his ascent of the dark mountain.

Every journey has a purpose – it must have, otherwise why would you make it?

Either an overt one or a covert one.

A desire to reach or to escape something.

What was his purpose?

He had once met the holy man Guru Baba, who told him that “the journey is the destination”. He had never quite understood its meaning, but sitting on the flat rock, he realized that its inscription symbolized both his journey and destination.

He was wherever he was.

He was it.

He didn’t know if he fell asleep, or if he’d never woken, for when he opened his eyes he was on a white mountain with great views in most directions. He saw forests, lakes, rivers, and other mountains, including a dark one at the far end of the valley.

It was time to begin again. Would it be the same journey or a different one? That was for him to choose.

Ascension and Expansion

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, Unknown, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , , on August 10, 2012 by javedbabar

I was tempted to stay in the crystal cave. Yes I’d found it by chance, on my way from the white mountain to the dark one, but I’d witnessed so many versions of myself refracted there that I could spend the rest of my life reflecting. The light was alluring and the forms were entrancing. Forever seemed a long time but also graspable. It would be easy to stay here, mesmerized.

I was distracted by a chink of light, and saw that the crystal before me held markings. They aligned as an equal-sided triangle. One edge was flat against me; the other two tapered to a point directed outwards. It was a message to move.

I recalled meeting a holy man called Guru Baba. He had told me about the Two Laws of the Universe. The Law of Attraction was “know what you want”, and the Law of Karma was “you get what you give” But he also said that Karma means action.

You cannot just sit on your ass, staring at your navel, thinking nice thoughts. Direction is required. Things don’t just happen of their own accord, they happen to you, because of you, via what you think, do, and say.

This recollection snapped me out of my daze. I took a long look around. There were reflections and refractions of my many facets. I saw the many me’s that were, are, and could be. Then I walked out of the chamber along the amber tube.

I thought about my journey thus far. I had awoken, unknown and alone, atop the white mountain, compelled to reach the dark mountain with the pulsing red star above it. I had gone to the village seeking shelter, but had instead been called an Abomination and chased out of town. I had wandered past farms, along the black river, and through the forest, till I reached a strange cabin, where I’d found a prophetic pioneer’s diary. The people of Samhala had welcomed and seduced me, and asked me to set a wooden man ablaze. I had been soothed by hot springs and found the crystal cave, which I was now leaving.

Why had these strange things happened? What was their purpose?

When I reached the cave entrance, I saw another petroglyph on the rock outside. I had walked the other way before, and must have missed it. It was a second equilateral triangle, this time pointing upwards.

The bearded elder of Samhala had spoken of the Tree of Life, whose energetic qualities were those of ascension and expansion. By journeying to the crystal cave, deep within the mountain, I had expanded my self-awareness. Now I must ascend.

Crystal Cave

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Sacred Geometry, Unknown, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , on August 9, 2012 by javedbabar

The forest spa was unexpected. He hadn’t imagined finding a moss-lined pool, fed by a hot spring, half way up the dark mountain. In truth he hadn’t known what to expect since he’d awoken, unknown and alone, atop the white mountain at the far end of the valley, and felt compelled to walk towards its dark sister.

It was tempting to stay camped there but he decided to continue climbing. The forest became lighter and it was dotted with small meadows, filled with red and blue flowers. He thought of the red hair and blue eyes of the girl in Samhala with whom he’d spent four nights.

There were hollows in a nearby bluff. His curiosity got the better of him and he approached the largest opening. He called out hello, and threw in some stones to scare out animals. A lone bat flew into view and disappeared again.

He walked in a few metres and stood for a while, allowing his eyes to adjust to gloom. He was surprised when the gloom disappeared quickly, easing into an amber glow. It reminded him of some fossils he’d seen when at school – insects encased in fiery light, which seemed still alive. There was an earthy sweet smell, reminiscent of a marine animal.

He saw that the cave was more like a tube, formed of translucent orange stone with hints of cherry and lemon. These colours vanquished darkness.

The smooth glowing tube invited his entry. Though he held no source of light, the amber light was sufficient by which to navigate. It was initially quite consistent but after a hundred metres began to dim. He considered going back, but decided to push on further in case the light improved. After a patch of near darkness the light increased rapidly. It went from smoky orange to amber, to tangerine, to pale resin.

The amber tube opened into a vast crystal chamber. The man from the mountain said, “My God!” and then was dumbstruck. White crystals were oriented in every direction, some the size of fingers and others as big as trees, growing upwards, downwards, horizontally, and diagonally. It seemed that they were supporting each other, battling each other, pointing and lifting. These countless crystals had endless facets, refracting and reflecting. Within them the man saw many differing facets of himself.

He was a child, an adult, and an old man, all at once.

He had masculine and feminine sides.

He was a father, brother, and son.

He was loved and hated…

Known and unknown…

Together and alone…

He was sane and insane…

Dreaming and awake.

The man from the mountain was all of these things, yet had in truth transcended them. These many versions of himself were concentrated into this one present version. He saw both the microscopic structure and the macroscopic shape of his crystal self. There was an orderly pattern repeating in all spatial dimensions.

Lost Lake

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , on August 8, 2012 by javedbabar

I could have stayed at Samhala for longer, but their need was satisfied. Their vessel had been filled. They gathered in the hard dirt courtyard at the centre of the village, and wished me farewell. It didn’t seem like I had another option.

The red-haired girl who had been my lover of the past four nights was not amongst them. The bearded elder who had welcomed me initially, crossed his arms across his heart and turned his back upon me. Everybody else did the same.

I continued my journey from the white mountain where I’d awoken a week ago, alone and unknown, to the dark mountain at the far end of the valley. I reached its foothills and the land began to rise. Vegetation was sparse and my progress was faster than I’d expected.

It was old growth forest, ravaged by fire, creating a strange world of towering black pillars with whispering winds. The ground cover had recovered somewhat but was easy to wade through. My feet kicked up ashes and soot. This was more bush-blacking than bush-whacking, I mused.

I rounded a curve and the whispering became a throaty roaring. It wasn’t the wind as I had supposed, but a creek dropping as a powerful waterfall. It seemed a hundred foot cotton candy machine, endlessly producing froth. Its mist was refreshing; it tickled my skin.

The rise was steep but negotiable. I climbed up beside the waterfall, constantly tired yet refreshed. The sky brightened unexpectedly as I neared the top. A beautiful turquoise lake appeared, maybe a hundred metres across. There was a jumble of sticks in the centre, and clouds floating at its far end.

I rested near the head of the waterfall, and considered remaining in its cool, frothy rainbows forever. There were pink and golden flashes in the lake – probably trout. I later managed to catch one, and baked it in ashes. Its pear-like flesh was very good, though it tasted quite earthy. Were there special minerals in the lake?

At dusk I saw slim shapes rippling through water near the jumble of sticks. They were beavers coming and going. One swam within ten metres of me but sensed my presence and slipped away. Maybe I imagined it, but the jumble of sticks seemed bigger later. Were the beavers bolstering their defences?

I slept where I was, and in the morning went to the far end of the lake. The curious clouds were still there, as if seated at their favourite spot. The water was warm in that part of the lake. I saw that a steady flow ran into it from the forest, and followed this stream to its source.

A small moss-lined pool was steaming. This was the source of the clouds. It was natures gift to me – the ultimate luxury, a forest spa. I spent all day there, looking at the patterns in the clouds, and those in the sky.

The red pulsing star I had followed was still there above the dark mountain. The star’s pulsing became beating, which became drumming. I felt that my final drama approached.

Eternal Fire

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , , on August 7, 2012 by javedbabar

His heart was inflamed by the woman. His blood was hot. His body engulfed.

They had not exchanged a word last night. She had come to him at dusk, they had made love, and she had lain with him for an hour before departing. Who was she? he wondered. Why had she come? It was surely for something more than sex. He’d heard of tribes who went overboard in their hospitality to strangers. Love thy neighbour, truly.

When was the last time he had been with a woman? He couldn’t remember. He recalled nothing before he awoke on the white mountain, a week ago; from there he had begun his journey through the valley, towards the dark mountain. He didn’t know why he was compelled to go there, but if living is dreaming, then this was the place he dwelt.

It was quiet at dawn, yet he sensed urgency outside. He pulled aside the door drape and stepped into the hard dirt courtyard. Outside the circle of thatched, mud-plastered huts stood the huge effigy of a thick-bodied wooden man.

The man from the mountain’s heart stopped. If his knees hadn’t buckled, he would surely have turned and run. People rushed towards him. He tried to get away, do something, anything, but his weakness, and their strength, made it impossible for him to do anything but be carried along with this crowd. He felt like a dying beetle swarmed by ants.

Strangely, nobody was hostile towards him. It seemed as if they all cared about his welfare. Who could he trust though? The bearded elder who had welcomed him to the village? The red-haired woman with whom he’d coupled last night? Certainly not the boy who had discovered and flushed him out by firing beans through a reed? Surely they were all in this together.

The elder called out, “Today is Samhala – the day after which our village is named. It is a holy day always, and today, even more so. A stranger has honoured us with his presence. He shall celebrate with us. He shall be carrier of the eternal flame.”

The crowed clapped and cheered. Cows and chickens joined in. Children danced around the stranger. The man from the mountain shuddered. Was this his destiny – to be a human torch?

The elder said, “See how he shivers! The divine spirit inhabits him!”

He went into a hut and returned with a flaming torch. “Look! I have touched this branch to the eternal fire. All wood comes from the Tree of Life. Fire is the eternal giver. Man is its spark!”

The elder walked towards the man from the mountain, whose knees buckled once more. Was this the meaning of the pulsing red star he’d seen above the dark mountain – his burning heart?

The elder said, “Here, stranger, sent to us by God. Light this humble offering made by our hands. Then take the eternal flame to the dark mountain for us. Take it in your heart. The dark mountain is a place taboo for us. Only holy strangers may go.”

The wooden effigy burnt fiercely, as did his heart again that night. His blood was hot. His body engulfed.

The red-haired woman came to him for four consecutive nights. On the fifth day, when he awoke, the people of Samhala were gathered outside to bid him farewell.