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goldenlangur

19.2.8 Rim

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goldenlangur

Rim

 

 

He slides aside the screen of his mind, stacks away sleep and follows the throb of the drum. At the rim of the night an ochre light leads him to red eye of the harvest moon. Beneath its coral glow the wilderness goddess sways to the beat of her hand held drum. Her ankle-length hair is black as a moonless sky, her eyes heavy lidded and petal shaped. A coil of cobra glistens on her diadem and her song swells the warm night air.

 

The young oracle bows before the goddess. He has invoked her in his rites, dreamed of her and now she opens her porcelain arms to him:

 

You stand on the rim of your world and mine. How faithfully you have propitiated me! How bravely you have endured the rites of passage into my creed. What will your reward be?

 

He raises his palms in joy and weeps wordlessly. She looks beyond his head and there amongst the terraced rice fields, his house looms into sight. His aged mother, weary after a day of harvest lies curled by the hearth fire in her yak wool rug. In a dark corner, his wife and new-born son are huddled on their rugs on the floor. Their grain storage box is empty, swathes of ripened paddy still stands in the field.

 

The goddess shakes her head and sings:

 

I know you want to cross the threshold into my abode and be blessed with untold knowledge and happiness. But your mother, wife and child will be hungry and helpless. The wild boars will soon descend into your village. I f your paddy is not harvested, your family will not survive the winter. All the rites of abundance you've performed for my blessings on your village and family will be for nothing.

 

Your time has not come, my son. To your world you must return.

 

 

Before the oracle utters a word, the wilderness goddess slips into the mists which swept over the ridge. Her song echoes in his head. The beam on which he rode to the moon is gone. He walks home through the shadows of the weeping cypress.

 

 

 

1 hour.

 

 

 

goldenlangur


goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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tonyv

I am drawn in by this, GL. I can recognize and appreciate the long-suffering oracle's desire to escape a somehow peaceful, yet not-so-stable reality:

He raises his palms in joy and weeps wordlessly. She looks beyond his head and there amongst the terraced rice fields, his house looms into sight. His aged mother, weary after a day of harvest lies curled by the hearth fire in her yak wool rug. In a dark corner, his wife and new-born son are huddled on their rugs on the floor. Their grain storage box is empty, swathes of ripened paddy still stands in the field ....

Sage advice from the goddess:

 

I know you want to cross the threshold into my abode and be blessed with untold knowledge and happiness. But your mother, wife and child will be hungry and helpless. The wild boars will soon descend into your village. If your paddy is not harvested, your family will not survive the winter. All the rites of abundance you've performed for my blessings on your village and family will be for nothing ....

Oh, how familiar are the feelings of uneasiness this elicits from within me! A peaceful life, even if realized, is such a precarious state of existence that seems so temporal: at any time (even if one has prepared and harvested the rice) the wild boars (or some other pestilence) can descend and wreak all kinds of havoc on those who are just trying to live their lives in peace.

 

Sometimes, I worry that I have grown soft as I have become older. Although, for the most part I am brave -- I think my anger at those who would try to enslave others helps me to maintain a hearty constitution -- I admit that (sometimes) I just want to flee and hide behind a courageous monk. But it seems the struggle for survival is the same everywhere and has been throughout history. America's honorable Framer's (unlike the mostly-criminal types acting in the name of our government now) were highly educated and extremely articulate. I take consolation in their words. A particular quote by Samuel Adams comes to mind and helps me if I become unfocused or fearful:

If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen.

Another one by Benjamin Franklin is resounding also:

Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.

----------
(The authorship of this quote has not been resolved, but most historians agree it was most likely Franklin.)

 

I'm sorry for the digression, but your piece hits close to home, and it has evoked a multitude of latent emotions. Loved: screen of his mind, throb of the drum, black as a moonless sky, her eyes heavy lidded and petal shaped, coil of cobra, her song swells the warm night air, her porcelain arms, weeps wordlessly, and finally,

... Her song echoes in his head. The beam on which he rode to the moon is gone. He walks home through the shadows of the weeping cypress.

Thank you for this, Goldenlangur.

 

Tony


Here is a link to an index of my works on this site: tonyv's Member Archive topic

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goldenlangur

Hi Tony,

 

I'm amazed where this prompt piece took you - beyond my wildest expectations!

 

Thank you so much for such a wonderfully reflective response. You're spot on about the oracle trying to escape his daily grind.

 

 

Sometimes, I worry that I have grown soft as I have become older. Although, for the most part I am brave -- I think my anger at those who would try to enslave others helps me to maintain a hearty constitution -- I admit that (sometimes) I just want to flee and hide behind a courageous monk. But it seems the struggle for survival is the same everywhere and has been throughout history. America's honorable Framer's (unlike the mostly-criminal types acting in the name of our government now) were highly educated and extremely articulate. I take consolation in their words. A particular quote by Samuel Adams comes to mind and helps me if I become unfocused or fearful:
If ye love wealth better than liberty, the tranquility of servitude better than the animating contest of freedom, go home from us in peace. We ask not your counsels or arms. Crouch down and lick the hands which feed you. May your chains set lightly upon you, and may posterity forget that ye were our countrymen.

Another one by Benjamin Franklin is resounding also:

Those who would give up essential liberty to purchase a little temporary safety, deserve neither liberty nor safety.

----------
(The authorship of this quote has not been resolved, but most historians agree it was most likely Franklin.)

Tony

 

 

No digression this and please no need for apologies, Tony. I've thoroughly enjoyed these nuggets of wise, fervent words. You're quite right - we often want what the other has, only to find that all might not seem as smooth and wonderful, as from a distance and lack of actual experience in that scenario!

 

 

With much appreciation for sharing these thoughts and historical perspectives, Tony.

 

 

goldenlangur


goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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Tinker

WoW!

 

~~Tink

 

Sorry to hit and run but I did want you to know I read this piece and give you my reaction.


~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~

For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com

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summayya

How many times this happens that in our voyage to find God we climb up

to the steeple and forget that God lives among the people!

 

Very much enjoyed GL.

 

You are an asset to the site!

 

Many many thanks!

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goldenlangur

Hello summayya,

 

How well you've honed into this piece!

 

How many times this happens that in our voyage to find God we climb up to the steeple and forget that God lives among the people!

 

You're too generous in your praise of my efforts. But such support goes a long way in helping me to keep on writing.

 

With gratitude,

 

goldenlangur


goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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goldenlangur

What can I say Tink but a big thank you for taking time to stop by, despite the many demands on your time.

 

 

goldenlangur

 

icon_smile.gif


goldenlangur

 

 

Even a single enemy is too many and a thousand friends too few - Bhutanese saying.

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