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Hours of the Moon

Posted in Conceptual Art, Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience with tags , , , , , , , , on August 19, 2012 by javedbabar

Guru Baba gave his assistant Sami the day off, “But only the day!” he said. “Tonight you will stay up working!”

“May I ask doing what?” said Sami. He was accustomed to Guru Baba’s mysterious utterances, but there was no harm in trying to glean some extra information.

The bearded sage adjusted his orange robe beneath the waist in an unseemly manner, and smiled. He said, “You will see!” He also adjusted the tilt of his turban. “You will see!”

Guru Baba’s first year of retirement to “the nice village with the white mountain above it” had been a confusing period. There were concerns that this famous holy man was suffering from dementia. Many global leaders had come to see him, thinking that he may soon die – it was a valuable PR opportunity not to miss out on! – but here he was in tip-top shape. Sami had given up trying to understand the man. He had developed a deep fondness for him, even when he was being very annoying, like now.

Sami didn’t want to have the day off and work all night. He made another attempt at extracting information. “Guru Baba, what for?”

“What for? What for? Because I said so! I know more than you! Come here at six o’ clock tonight or don’t ever bother coming here again.”

Sami spent the day watching movies and cleaning the house. He should do it more often, not let it build up like this into a disaster zone. Did spiders really think they’d catch sumptuous dinners in his apartment? Bug screens kept all the insects out, but seemed to have no effect on fluff and dust.

Sami appeared at six p.m., as instructed, at the Transparent Temple. Guru Baba said cheerfully, “Come on, let’s go for a walk.” They walked along the canal trail for a kilometre before turning off into a field. “Look,” said Guru Baba. “There’s the moon.”

This was true. Though it was not yet dusk, a full moon had appeared, more grey than white, in a pale blue sky. Guru Baba said, “You will be learning lessons from the Man in the Moon tonight.” Then he produced a sketch pad and pencil from beneath his robes and said, “Draw the moon.”

“But I can’t really draw,” said Sami. He’d never enjoyed art class.

Sami recognized the signs when Guru Baba was angry. His nose drew up and he shouted, “Draw it! Drawing is just looking! Look at it!”

Sami did the best he could. There was nothing to draw really, just a circle with some shading. “Well done,” said Guru Baba in a conciliatory fashion.

They continued looking. The sage said, “Do you know the Japanese artist Yoshitoshi? He made a series of woodblock prints called One Hundred Views of the Moon. They are very beautiful, and so surprising and original, with lovers, warriors, old women, children, farmers, and monkeys all looking at the moon. They are entranced by it. I want you to always look at the moon like that. Yoshitoshi was the last master of woodblock printing before photography and other forms of mass reproduction destroyed it. His life represents one man’s struggle against time. He eventually lost. We all do. But while he was alive he was always looking.”

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Man in the Moon

Posted in Classic Sci-Fi, Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, World Myths with tags , , , , , , , on June 27, 2012 by javedbabar

Guru Baba stood in a field near his house, staring at the moon. There was the Mare Imbrium, and Mare Serenitatis, looking like a pair of eyes; smaller M. Vaparen and M. Insularum, joined into a nose; M. Cognitum and M. Nubium forming a mouth. There he was, formed of dark seas and bright highlands, the Man in the Moon. His monochromatic light play had amused humans since the dawn of their time.

He motioned to his assistant, Sami, who walked right over. “Are you wondering why I brought you here?” he said.

“Sort of,” he said. “But I’ve stopped wondering about most things since I began working for you.”

Guru Baba’s face dropped. He wondered, what did he mean by that?

Sami continued, “The things you say and do defy explanation, so there’s no point wondering. I’ll never understand.”

“You must never stop wondering!” shouted Guru Baba. His voice was harder than Sami had ever heard it before. He realized he had made him very angry. Guru Baba’s next words, however, were calm.

“Come, look at the moon with me.” Guru Baba became silent for a while, wondering if Sami was ready. Was he ready to be taught? He could end up like a Russian shaman he knew, stuck in the moon. It was spiritually rather than physically, but that was just as bad, if not worse. He decided that this one bad egg – whose ego exceeded his skill – should not be his benchmark. There were many better stories. Had he not succeeded himself?

He said to Sami, “What do you see?”

“I see the moon,” he said. “And the Man in the Moon.”

Ah good, thought Guru Baba. He is attuned. “But what is the Man in the Moon?”

“Well, I remember my Grandma’s stories. She loved folktales and myths. She said he was a man punished by God for gathering sticks on the Sabbath. She also said he’d been banished for stealing his neighbour’s hedgerows, and other people’s sheep. There was a Chinese story of a woman who drank a double potion of the Elixir of Life and then lived there with her rabbits. She was the Woman in the Moon. Polynesians said he was the world’s greatest sailor, riding a boat of light in the sky…”

“Very good,” said Guru Baba, thinking what a fine choice of assistant he’d made. “They are all true. But the real Man in the Moon is greater than all of those together. Look at his light and dark parts, expressing the duality of the universe. Look deeper. What do you see? That’s right; he holds the Taijitu – the Yin-Yang symbol. See his dark parts to the top and left, and bright parts to the bottom and right. They swirl around each other. He takes the light of the sun and reflects it wholly, but also holds shade. The Man in the Moon is our supreme teacher. Are you ready to learn his lessons?”

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Deepest Desires

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown with tags , , , , , , , on June 26, 2012 by javedbabar

Guru Baba had retired as a holy man three years ago. He’d announced to the world that he would withdraw from active spiritual life, and live simply in “that lovely little village with the white mountain above it,” known as Lucerne.

In those three years, however, he had learnt that one can never really switch off from the spirit. Once you connect with the heart of life there’s no way to stop vital force pumping; you are forever part of the flow. Sure, you could have the spiritual equivalent of a cardiac arrest, but those at one with life rarely died in such a fashion. There were usually other factors involved such as mental illness, aggravated genetic conditions, or political intrigues.

For some time now, he’d felt strange energies at play in Lucerne. He couldn’t quite point his finger at them, but they tingled his palms. He had known this place was rich and holy – that’s why he’d come here. The black and white peaks at opposite ends of the valley, the silent red forests, the icecap to the west and desert to the east, the pale rivers, dark lakes, and mysterious ancient places, all came together powerfully. They held energetic lines converging, forming zones of pure potential.

Guru Baba’s young assistant, Sami, brought regular reports of mysterious happenings; “Strange goings-on” as he called them. There were scented bubbles at a natural spring, a Tea-Jay using ancient herbs and rituals to entrance vast crowds; a girl and her uncle lost in the realms of their own drawing; Botanical Gardens with evil-minded plants evolving; a seniors centre where lost lovers cast new souls; a dark harp whose vibrations brought down buildings; “light water” revealing heavenly constellations; healing machines that mixed patient’s intentions with technology; even reports of android spiders from Mars. The latter was probably a product of Sami’s imagination.

Such strange occurrences were usually seen only at temples or in the presence of prophets. Guru Baba didn’t mind saying though that he’d seen a few himself.

He phoned his office at the Transparent Temple – nickname for their community centre – and said “Sami, please bring the truck.”

“Why, Guru Baba? Should you not be resting today?”

“I wish to visit the natural spring you told me about.”

Guru Baba spent an hour there, its ginger-honey bubbles popping around him. He was infused with passion and reverence. Time and space dissolved…

He returned to the truck only when his deepest desires were fulfilled. Not those of being young again, or world peace, or for an end to hunger, or for all people to be equal and happy. Those were superficial. His truest desire was to be here now. What more could anyone want?

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Bricking It

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

It was always fun to play in the forest, and now they had paintball guns it was better than ever. Running through the trees and crawling through bush, they were warriors with semi-deadly weapons, each ready to kill or be killed.

Hiding in tree holes and ditches was also fun, getting to know the bugs and spiders, picking their legs off, one by one. There was a tipping point though, and you could only wait for so long. If nobody was available to ambush, then they were probably creeping up to ambush you themselves.

“What about that pile over there?” shouted Sami. “Let’s take a look.” It would make a good fort. However as they approached it, they saw that it wasn’t a wood pile, but a squat brick building, ten feet square, completely enclosed with no obvious entry point. Vegetation around it was disturbed and some trees were smashed. It looked like it hadn’t been there too long. Who had built it, and how?

Sami did a full reconnaissance. There was no door, no windows, no chimney, and no drains. No warning signs either. The building’s only notable features were eight brick buttresses – one at each corner, and one at the centre of each side. He’d seen such features when visiting French cathedrals.

Boys with guns and anonymous buildings, it was a good combination, and there was only one thing to do. The building became their official target.

They made a range on every side. There was a swamp range, shooting uphill through rushes; a mountain range, firing downhill through roots; an east range, aiming through tree trunks; a west range, blasting across flat, rocky ground. They agreed to have a shooting match each day, with teams moving around the ranges.

Four teams of two were established and given different coloured pellets. They counted out one hundred pellets per person. At the end of four days, the differently coloured hits would be counted and the winners declared. If people were caught in cross fire, so much the better!

Sami and Jonah were blue brothers in arms. As they started shooting, they heard noises within. “There must be some machinery inside,” said Sami. Should we stop?”

“No way”” said Jonah, and they continued firing with a pretty good hit rate.

On the third day, when the building had been hit exactly 1,028 times, it suddenly rose up and the buttress roots emerged from the ground. The android spider had been very patient, but every creature has its limits. 1,028 hits, coming from all directions, were a sure sign of attack, and it was programmed to defend itself. It squashed one fleeing humanoid with each armoured leg, and fed them into its underside. It had been resting for too long and was feeling damp and kind of rusty. Their fats would provide good lubrication.

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Acoustic Experiment

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

“Walk two steps forward,” said Guru Baba. “That’s it. Maybe one step more. Okay, half a step back. How does that feel?”

Sami didn’t know what to say. It felt the same wherever he stood in the field. He had a view of Mt Alba at the end of the Valley and forests, rivers and cliffs on both sides. The guy standing opposite him about twelve feet away, Shama – was that his name? – would have a similar view, but seeing as he was facing west, it would be Mt Negra instead.

“Okay, you have both played flutes before?” said Guru Baba.

Sami protested. “Guru Baba, I told you…”

“Yes, I know that,” said Guru Baba. “I don’t mean professionally, I just mean can you get a sound out of them? Not orchestral flutes, just bamboo flutes. Here, take one each. No. Wait! Don’t move! I’ll bring them to you. Okay.”

Sami had been Guru Baba’s assistant for almost a year now, ever since the world famous holy man had made Lucerne his home. Guru Baba had been kept super busy by his constant stream of visitors and the demands of his many charitable projects. He rarely found time to get out of the village to pursue his personal projects. Today they had sneaked away for an “acoustic experiment”, though Guru Baba had yet to explain what this consisted of. That was his way – always mysterious. And they’d also picked up this rough-looking guy called Shama. Who knew why?

“Sami, can you please start with a steady tone?” Sami blew too hard initially, creating a rasp, but then produced the requested steady tone, which wavered within reason.

“Very good. Shama, can you please try to match his tone?” Shama did the same – a rasp, and then a steady-enough tone.

“Very good too. Now play continuously while I walk around. Yes, of course you can breathe, who doesn’t? But keep playing as steadily as possible.”

Guru Baba walked around them. At first it was a tight circle barely including them both, but he gradually widened his range till the circle was fifty feet across. He walked this steady perimeter four times, and on the fifth circuit began halting, stopping and starting, like a DVD getting stuck on the same scratch, again and again. He produced a can of orange construction paint from beneath his saffron robe, and marked places that he halted, about every fifteen feet. Sami stopped playing to ask something, but was shouted at and told to continue. Guru Baba continued walking, marking and remarking with orange paint.

After half an hour, the circle of markings was complete. Guru Baba said, “Sami, you wished to ask something.”

“Erm, yes. Why are you making those spots?”

“Music is multisensory. You can hear it, but you can also see and feel it. In all cultures oral traditions came first. Writing came later. The internet came even after that. It wasn’t always there you know.” He smiled to himself. “The past was not silent and neither is the present. We have so much to re-learn about the acoustics of structures and spaces. We must unlock them!”

Shama didn’t say anything, but Sami needed to know more. He asked Guru Baba a series of questions that made him smile, walk over, and take the flute from Sami’s hand. He said, “Now you walk and see.”

Guru Baba and Shama played steady tones as Sami circled. At first he heard just the sounds of the flutes together, but after some circuits, he sensed invisible bumps along his path. The interference patterns created by the two flutes acquired substance. Ancient music was inspired by naturally occurring patterns and rhythms, and was used to tune human emotions and states of awareness. Music attracted mates, communicated messages, and strengthened bonds. It enhanced early man’s chances of survival, and may provide hope for modern man also.

Sami walked round and around with his eyes shut. He saw and felt everything.

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