I said my brief farewell to my grieving mothers, leaving them in their eyrie amongst the sound of shawms and trumpets, and the incessant, hard flapping of prayer flags. My way lay down the mountain, towards the sun, away from the place where I had taught and learned the truth, turn and turn about. To that place I turned my back; water is water, but you can never wash twice in the same river – it flows on, and is gone for ever.
I walked from the attenuated, mist-filled upper air, down through forests, and into stifling jungle, cursed with steam and noises; but I had no fear – what business of mine was it to fear? At each sign of habitation I lowered my eyes, proffered my bowl, and begged for my food, returning always a blessing for charity, for a dumb stare, or for a curse. Where my presence was welcome, and sometimes where it was not, I sat for hours, or for days, and taught and learned. I taught true peace. I learned what kind of rice grows on terraces, the names of flowers, the sounds made by tiger, wolf, and sambhur in the night, the villagers’ names for constellations and for the land I had just left, how to make fire with a bow, and what kind of girl is considered beautiful.
One day my path forked. To the right, one step away, lay enlightenment. To the left lay I-know-not-what that was not enlightenment. My foot was raised to take the final step beyond which all walking is irrelevant, unnecessary, when I caught the barest, slightest movement with the corner of my eye. One step down the leftward fork a delicate cobweb hung upon a bush. In its centre a small fly struggled to be free. So filled with pity was I for my tiny, winged brother, that I turned from enlightenment, and took a step down his path. With the care that one would use to take a thorn from a child’s hand, I freed the fly, taking care to damage the cobweb no more than was necessary.
“My sister the spider shall eat, but not today while I am here,” I said.
The fly took to the breeze, made a halo of buzzing round my head for a few moments and, before disappearing into the rippling shade of the forest, bit me. He was welcome to do so. I did not begrudge him so small a drop of blood.
As I journeyed on down this path, I became aware of much; of how transient all things were, and yet how crystalline in its beauty each moment was, and fit for rejoicing or for greeting with a soft smile; of how much suffering there is, and how a great unhappiness lies at the root of all anger. Where I came to tears I offered comfort, where difficulty another shoulder to the task, where hunger half my rice, where a lonely, frightened child my breast to suck. Where beauty was, such as the dissolving raindrops like beads of amber sweat in the evening sunlight, I gave a soft smile. For many months I camped at one crossroads, and people would bring their troubles to me, walking away relieved. They listened to my words, and told me I should write them down; I gave no answer to that, but thought of the river, and of washing.
One night, as I studied the glow of my small fire, a woman came to me, arrayed as a houri and with kohl in her eyes. She was beautiful, and her voice was the sigh of the moon.
“If you could save me – free me from the wheel of life – by kissing me, would you do so?” she asked me.
“Yes,” I said, for I could see her unhappiness, and would no more begrudge her my lips than I would have begrudged the fly his sip of lifeblood. She kissed me, and I kissed her with all the knowledge of a thousand lifetimes and with all the innocence of one lifetime yet to start; and she stayed by my camp fire and we slept.
When the fire of the morning sky began to outdo the embers of my fire, we awoke. She leant on one slender arm and looked into my face. At that moment I could see that she was no mortal woman, but a demon.
“I have played you for a fool,” she said. “You kissed me, and yet there is no salvation, no release from the wheel of life, no enlightenment promised to such as I.”
I was not afraid.
“I saw your unhappiness,” I said. “And even now if another kiss would relieve its pain, I would bestow it without hesitation.”
“Will you follow me, be with me, share my unhappiness?” asked the demon.
“Yes,” I said, raising one hand to bless her, lowering the other to touch the ground. “I call upon the earth to bear witness to my truthfulness.”
For years I made my home with the demon, going wherever she went. When she was hungry I fed her. When she was unhappy I kissed her. When she was sick I held her to my breast so she could stifle her groans against my shoulder, and I sang little lullabies to her. When she was cold, I wrapped her in my clothes and put my naked flesh against hers. When she rejoiced I laughed with her. When she ran I ran. All the time we knew that there was no promise made to her, and when she reminded me of this, I would say:
“But compassion has no such boundaries.”
One day I said to her, “If you ever intend to leave me, then do not tell me good bye. Let my last memory of you be of a smile, and an evening salutation. Rather than good bye say, ‘Good night, see you in the morning’.”
She smiled and said, “Good night, see you in the morning.”
In the morning she was gone, and so I picked up my bowl and went on my way again, always facing the sunlight. I walked, and walked, and walked, until I came to this desert. Here I left, in a neat pile, my clothes, my worn-out sandals, my begging bowl, thinking, “These are the words – the book – that I will leave for whomever comes after. Read them, travellers.”
For I had seen that only suffering can speak to suffering in a voice that it can hear. And so I walked, naked and alone into this desert, which is both the hammer and anvil of the light. I kept walking… into the light… alone.
Author notes
“Om gate gate paragate parasam gate bodhi swaha”
This is the sequel to my earlier prose-poem allpoetry.com/Poem/2210670
Written November 14th, 2006
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Absolutely beautifull and so many messages
Beautiful, incredible and I cannot find words to describe this fabulous and ............ words just cannot do it justice. Mairi your saintliness radiates to me and I am always better for the experince.. I send you a kiss of bewilderment and humbleness that always inspires me to the beauty you share .
Bravo
Barry
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Barry, my dear friend, sometimes I read these two stories, and I think they are the best things I ever wrote. They are what I would want to live on after me, if all the rest were torn up. Pretentious? Perhaps.
This one is based very loosely on the beliefs about Kuan Yin, the personification of mercy in Chinese Buddhism.
Thank you for your compliments.
M
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I am delighted to find this story!
You devoted much thought and heart to his tale of bitter-sweet imagery.
It verifies, in my mind, that even the worst bargain may be worth consideration because what you give may enhance your soul regardless of how the recipient accepts and uses what you bestow. 
You have such a wise mind and talent for offering what is therein. 
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Thank you, Melodies, you are very perceptive.
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Mairi bheag,
I read every word with interest and delight. Recognising much, pondering what remained.
Having put it aside for just long enough to tap out these comments I shall re-read it with even greater expectancy.
Thankyou for sharing it.
Shenton
P.S. I have stored the picture away for future reference.
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