Archives for the month of: September, 2016

‘What is this dust, Akzasosan?’ Berensota asked, gazing up at his friend again, his voice open, almost pleading. ‘Why is there always dust? It is relentless. Once, I spent two months alone, without servants, in a villa belonging to the clan, in the high country of Ezu, among the Fu’unsi Alps, beyond the Gates of Deer. It is a small house. It is very quiet there, isolated from other villas and from villages. And the air is clear there – pure, as if it has just been made…’
12345Berensota tilted his head, and examined his sword hilt from another angle, his oily hair sliding across the side of his face, glittering slightly in the light from the lantern above him.
12345‘I was a ninth-chen lord, and wore the Gram of the Black of Eclipsed Suns – no, really!’ He made a brief, faintly embarrassed face, as if admitting it must be difficult to believe he had ever achieved such a high grade of purity. Then his memory claimed him again. ‘I was preparing for the days of deep meditation, in readiness to attempt illumination, and to achieve the blesséd Rank of the Subtle… You will understand how clarified I already felt: I had been training for years. I had memorised the entire Metal Books of War, and practised the style of zamen perfected by my ancestors, sometimes for ten or eleven hours a day… I felt very strong, Akzasosan.
12345Anyway, I retreated, temporarily, from public life. I read the sutras, and meditated, walked and sat, watching the day and watching the night. For that whole two months, I rarely saw another human being, and then only at distance, as they made their way along a mountain pass, or walked across the alpine meadows there. Supplies were brought to me, by arrangement, from the nearest village, but the villagers came and went without conversation, leaving packages by the door. The villagers understood the purpose of my retreat, and knew I was on holy business. I went into myself. Into the Building…
12345I was not attempting to achieve illumination then and there: for that, I wished to be among my cousins, and with my masters, instructors, my family, my Mark. Yet, I felt illumination was imminent. I felt the transcendent condition, like a seed, deep inside me. My movements were light and my thoughts occurred naturally, without division. Some traditions speak of illumination as the superstate: the state beyond states – and I sensed such an unthinkable condition as being close and possible for me. I would experience the death of the self. I would be illuminated. When I moved, the universe moved; and when I was still, the universe grew motionless. I didn’t seem to require any motive power to walk or stand: there was just a floating sensation. Among the RoMayZine, we say: Grammar grows obsolete; and we mean, that grammar, being dark, can no longer deal with the world as it is when illuminated. Even to speak of “I” is foolish. “I”, “it”, “this”, “that”… All foolish, all dark. But, for me then, I sensed grammar growing obsolete. I was entering the place where lightning is slow, and where brightness is black. I felt beautiful.
12345And then I noticed the dust.’


Excerpt from Dustless | Volume 13 | River Direction

Notes:
Chen is a measure of spiritual purity. There are ten grades of chen, and each grade is denoted by a colour. Berensota wears the ninth-chen Gram of the Black of Eclipsed Suns. He is in training to reach the highest state of spiritual purity, which, if he achieves it, will permit him to wear the tenth-chen Gram of the White of Drifting Clouds. He will be considered illuminated, a person of visionary powers, and will be promoted from Fine to Subtle Rank.

Zamen is both the product and the state of meditation. People sit in zamen, and enter the Building – the Building Without Motion, the MarIsQuess – which is an enigmatic state, giving masters of the Building celestial powers.

A Mark is a grouping of noble clans. Clans gather under certain Marks – the Shepherd Mark, for example, or the Empty Barrel Mark. Clans of mutual affinity assemble in order to develop their own culture and to trade and support each other.

The RoMayZine is a tradition. Clans who follow the RoMayZine are warrior clans, who place special emphasis on studying and embodying the ancient wisdom of the sutras of the RoMayZuthZine, the Metal Books of War.

Amazon Kindle Store:
UK | Dustless | Volume 1
US | Dustless | Volume 1
India | Dustless | Volume 1

ASIN (Amazon Standard Identification Number) | B00BEZL4ZU

Please explore…

Dustless | Volume 1

Advertisements

The first thing he remembered was the clouds. The clouds, and Zysashin’s voice. His sister, Zysashin, laughing.

Did the clouds come out of Zysashin’s voice?

That was strange…

The first thing he remembered was the two of them, together on the moor, running under the brief summer sky, racing clouds across the heather.

How did they run?

They hurdled, or scrambled over, the low, soft, round grey boulders that studded the hillside. Zysoshin, Zysashin: twins. They ran hard, lifting each other up if one stumbled, trying to reach the thorn tree near the edge of the track before the cloud’s shadow fell over their heads, ending the game. The wizened black thorn was the winning post…

Sai…

Uxo…

Sai, SolMin

And how did the game begin? In those short summers, when the days were long?

Well, they would wait by the stream until a cloud appeared over the brow of the hill, and then, trying not to giggle, sprint towards the thorn.

They raced together – only then was the race real. Sometimes Zysoshin would race alone, without Zysa, and sometimes even beat the cloud to the thorn – but it didn’t matter. He knew it didn’t count without Zysa. Even if she watched him race the cloud, Zysa sitting on the Bug Stone in the sunlight, and he said: ‘“Watch me, Zysa – Zysa: watch”, and they both laughed and yelped when the tip of the great white cloud first appeared over the top of the hill, like the tentacle of some fairytale sea creature, and Zyso set off, splashing through the wet grass and over the peaty, black earth, in a kind of ecstasy – even then, if he managed to reach out and touch the trunk of the thorn before the shadow fell upon him, he knew he had not won very much really, it was only him alone, it didn’t mean anything.

No, only when they raced hand in hand was the race true. And though they were both slender, of similar build, long-limbed and agile, and though Zysa was hardly slower than Zyso, when they ran together, they always lost the race against the cloud – unless it was a very fat, old summer cloud, lazy and ambling, which didn’t count anyway: but at least when they lost together, the losing was real. To run alone (and Sasa could beat the cloud on her own, too) was not really to run at all.

Their home and their world was a high place of clouds and of winds. It belonged to them…


Excerpt from The Sentinels, Volume 1 of Dustless

Please embark…

Dustless | Volume 1

Amazon Kindle Store:
UK | Dustless | Volume 1
US | Dustless | Volume 1
India | Dustless | Volume 1

ASIN (Amazon Standard Identification Number) | B00BEZL4ZU

From a seed of stone
mountains sprouted.
No one knew.
We were busy, and, anyway,
there was the sky.

Time passed, as it has
the habit of doing.
We passed away, others came.
Under their feet, very slowly,
the landscape was changing.
They didn’t notice:
they moved more quickly,
their moments were flushed
with vivid colours,
and these colours
caught their attention:
the rest
they demoted to background,
especially the grey
of rocks, even
the chrysalis hidden by dazzle
in the first winter snow.

We kicked pebbles, or put them
in glass vases, as ballast,
and to set off
the flowers we cut and placed in our rooms
for beauty, or perhaps,
more obscurely,
to remind us we were mortal.

As we changed, the sky changed,
we didn’t notice.
We had love, and grief, and our bodies
bleating in the dark
asking for milk or for a tender hand
to reach out, and be for us,
to soothe, to slip us
from our clothes,
to offset our pain.

And then, one day,
somehow there were mountains.
What could we do with them?
We lived with them, but
they weren’t very useful.
Did they remind us of flowers?
Of fathers we had lost,
of the dying of years,
of lovers?
Or of towns, out on the plains,
we had left, long ago,
places we’d only ever
meant to pass through?

Perhaps. Still, we couldn’t
rearrange the slopes, the peaks
and the divides,
wash them, keep them clean,
ask them to explain,
or take them with us:
but they altered the earth’s
relation to the sky,
and they lingered
changing the way
clouds behaved,
and in our rooms
in the warm, still
moonlight of summer
the dust motes
trembled, turned
to face the summits,
and, vibrating as we slept,
floated,
already far along
into their journey

to be mountains.


 

Please explore…

Volume 1 | The Sentinels

•DUSTLESS-FIN1

Dustless | Volume 1 is approximately 20 pp./a5

status | published 11 02 2013

Amazon Kindle Store:
UK | Dustless | Volume 1  |||–––––|||  US | Dustless | Volume 1

ASIN (Amazon Standard Identification Number) | B00BEZL4ZU

So the boy slept. He woke again, and I will tell you of that in a moment. But let him sleep for a while now. He deserves a little peace, doesn’t he?

It will be obvious to you, I imagine, that I have some affection for the boy. I have followed him closely through this story, never letting him out of my sight for very long.

It will not always be like this. There are too many voices, and too many stories.

We are not set up to listen to one story alone, however much we may want to. But equally, we are not set up to hear every story.

We must choose, for the most part, which stories we attend to, and which stories we tell.

Only the damned, perhaps, have no choice in this matter.

And yet, as we turn away from this story, and listen to that – as we grow deaf to this story, and attentive to that – isn’t there a kind of betrayal going on?

I think so.

Only, even now, I am not sure who is betrayed.

Well, well – never mind. We are not set up for too many stories. Let us concentrate on the one in hand.

For after all, only a man of flames can live in a house of fire. Only a child can live in the house of children.

Listen, and I’ll tell you about it.

Excerpt from Fire House, Volume 6 of Dustless


And the Way was hard to come by, and precious to find…

Volume 1 | The Sentinels

•DUSTLESS-FIN1

Dustless | Volume 1 is approximately 20 pp./a5

status | published 11 02 2013

Amazon Kindle Store:
UK | Dustless | Volume 1  |||–––––|||  US | Dustless | Volume 1

ASIN (Amazon Standard Identification Number) | B00BEZL4ZU