Archive for sunshine

Welcome to Town

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, Unknown, World Myths with tags , , , , , , on July 30, 2012 by javedbabar

He stripped off entirely and lay on a rock in the sunshine. Ah, it felt so nourishing to be warmed by the source of all goodness, the giver of life on earth. Why people worshipped things other than the sun, he never knew. It’s really simple. The sun gives us light and heat; the sun’s gone and we’re gone, that’s it. Every other god could disappear tomorrow and you’d never know.

Dry and dressed, he headed out of the forest. He’d descended from Mt Alba’s summit into the valley, and his ultimate goal was the dark mountain at the its far end, with the pulsing red star above. How he’d got here, and why he was going there, he didn’t know. He just knew this was his journey.

A good gravel road led towards the village. Fields and farm buildings began to appear. He was stared at by cows, and greeted by goats; horses whinnied and ran along beside him. A metal sign said: “Lucerne Village, population 2,000. Authorized by The Authority.”

He remembered there had been a dispute with The Authority. Or maybe it wasn’t The Authority itself, more its local agents. It had to do with identity. They said that he was one thing, and he said that he was something else. That was the reason for the dispute, and the reason he had woken alone atop Mt Alba.

He must return to the village though. He was cold and hungry and had nowhere else to go. That was the cruellest thing about exile. You had no option but to return, whatever the consequences.

The man from the mountain saw the building known as the Transparent Temple. It sat at the heart of village life, acting as community centre, arts venue, and a place for holy gatherings, celebrations and feasts. There was a gathering there now. People sat around a man wearing saffron robes and turban, who rested with his eyes closed. Then he opened his eyes and looked upwards and smiled. The man from the mountain felt a rush of love for everything in the world. He was a good man, this… he remembered… Guru Baba.

Another gathering took place outside, led by a shaven headed man in loose white trousers and shirt. He turned to look at the man from the mountain, and pointed and said loudly, “This is what we must guard ourselves against. Look closely, for the Abomination comes in many guises. I, Ozwald Malchizedek, have been blessed with sharp eyes to see through them. I tell you, this is one of them!”

The crowd turned and stared. Some sneered and shouted, “Go away! Leave us alone! Lord save us!”

This seemed familiar to the man from the mountain. It had happened before. There was something about him that people feared. Though Guru Baba welcomed this difference, Ozwald Malchizedek rejected it.

Who has the right to do this? To hate the wonder of life, born of a pulsing red heart?

Nice Views

Posted in Lucerne Village, Mystical Experience, World Myths with tags , , , , , , on April 17, 2012 by javedbabar

It was a gorgeous day and the clients of Open Hearts seniors daycare centre sat outside. Whether they could or couldn’t be outside the centre’s “protected atmosphere” was a hazy area in the regulations. The centre was built to modern construction parameters and was completely airtight, making it highly energy-efficient. No air entered or left without being conditioned – pre-heated in winter, pre-cooled in summer, and something in between during spring and fall. Windows were never opened, and doors were double doors, regulating variations and tempering sounds. Floors were washed daily and walls wiped weekly. Insects and pets were forbidden. It was entirely spick and span.

None of this could be said for the great outdoors. Wild filthy nature was filled with birds and bees, richly-microbed soils, and every kind of allergen imaginable, including floating pollens, sneaky bacteria, communicable viruses, choky tree nuts, pointy oily seeds, five-bellied dairy producers, and gluten-filled grains. And of course there were all kinds of people not obeying rules and regulations, doing whatever they liked. The Authority discouraged the Centre’s clients from going outside. But as mentioned, it was a hazy area. The manager Mr. Amin took the view that culture must be tempered by nature. Today clients sat spread across the lawn – some in sun, some in shade – before Mt Alba, which rose up among the Valley’s swirling mists, as if to God.

Mr. Amin thought about Guru Baba’s great pilgrimage. It was both the highlight and the lowlight of his recent life. It had been a privilege to spend time in the company of such a great holy man. The residents of Lucerne had been shocked when this revered Master announced that he would retire to “that lovely little village with the white mountain above it.” The Authority had immediately offered him a mansion with acreage and horses, but he said that wasn’t necessary. He just wanted one of the “little houses” that he had seen there, meaning a seniors’ housing unit built by the local fraternal group The Tigers.

An empty unit was provided for Guru Baba and he moved right in. Nobody knew what happened to the Italian woman who had been living there already. Despite being over eighty – some claimed he was a hundred, even a thousand – Guru Baba was fit and strong, and led a hundred-person pilgrimage to the top of Mt. Alba. Mr. Amin’s knees had only allowed him as far as the base camp. It saddened him to have not attained the summit with Guru Baba, but upon his return, the sage gave him a holy rock upon which to dream.

Irene looked into the forests clothing Mt. Alba’s lower slopes. She wondered how the little girl who had become St. Sandrine had managed to ride her horse up there? Irene had once walked the forestry roads at its base, searching for crystals. Even those roads were overgrown and barely passable on foot. But Sandrine had ridden Thunder, her powerful charger, right to the summit. Stories of her horse having eight legs confused facts with legends. Odin’s horse Sleipnir had eight legs, not Thunder, who was just a working farm horse. He had a huge heart – which was what had drawn Sandrine to him – but the usual number of legs. Thunder’s owner, an Old Family farmer, had immediately seen the love between this young beauty and beast. He had also seen the holy light in her eyes. He had given the horse as a gift to Sandrine, and requested that she “ensure this fine beast accompanies you to heaven.” Sandrine had taken him literally, riding Alba’s trails with Thunder, and they died together at the top. This story of God’s creatures rising together had captured people’s hearts, and caused Sandrine’s elevation to Sainthood.

James too sat staring into the distance. Since his stroke he did little else. His thoughts however were as lucid as ever. People didn’t seem to understand that he may not be able to sing and dance, but that his mind ran free. In some ways it was stronger than ever, as there were fewer distractions, just flowing possibilities. He thought of diabetic amputee Safira climbing the mountain. How had she managed it without legs? She’d had a support team, of course, carrying food, water, camping and medical equipment, but the exertion had been all her own. The thought of her struggling up there with steel legs and canes was so inspiring that he often cried. People mistook those tears for sadness at his personal condition, but that was not true. He was resigned to the life that fate had delivered, and that was the thing – that Safira wasn’t. She had achieved the impossible. She was an amazing woman. An inspiration to all.

Gemma sat in the shade, knitting and purling. Tik-Tak-Tik-Tak-Tik-Tak-Tik-Tak. She wondered if Ozwald Melchizedek had really climbed Mt. Alba? He was her spiritual mentor – and occasional tormentor – but some of his stories did seem quite tall. He said that he’d climbed Mt. Alba in his mind, raising his level of consciousness “to the top of his Man-Head, and the bottom of the God-Head”. He had balanced his soul at the mountain top – which he referred to as the “pyramid point” – and at that moment, intersected with divinity in a “holy checking in” of transcendent involution.

They all stared at the holy mountain, knowing that soon they would be climbing it together. “Okay, time to go inside,” said Mr. Amin. “Last one in is a mountain goat!”