#327 - Renaissance
Every day is a journey, and the journey itself is home
There is a garden. In this garden, there is a koi pond made of white stone, in which twin fish swim, one white with a black spot, one black with a white spot. A teacher, whose name is Zhen-La is sitting next to the pond, wearing loose fitting robes of palest yellow. Two young students, boys, sit beside her. One is white. One is black.
Zhen-La is drawing circles in the pond with one, long, pale finger. "Time," she says, in her soft, sweet voice, "is matter of thought. It is merely the means we use to divide ourselves from ourselves so that we may seem to progress. We see it as a path, from point to point to point, like spokes on a wheel, like the circle; yet time is the pond, surrounding, encompassing and being all things."
The silver-blond boy stares intently into the water, watching the ripples spread and intersect, pink cheeks flushed. The other boy laughs heartily, teeth a flash of white against the darkness of his skin, his curls bouncing.
"Then what are the fish, miss?" he asks.
She smiles. "What would you like them to be?"
He blinks at her, looks thoughtful for a moment, and then grins again. "My lunch!"
The blond boy glares at him, before turning to their teacher. "Sifu," he asks, "do you mean that, um, that events aren't separate? That the future is already happening, and the past too?"
Zhen-La nods, even as she corrects him, "Do not say that everything happens at once; say, rather, that at once, everything happens."
"That's the same thing," the other boy complains. "If everything happens now, it must be now that everything happens. That just stands to reason. You can't have one without the other."
"Can't you?" she asks mildly, smiling down at him.
He huffs. "No!"
The blond boy elbows him. "Don't be rude, Si," he complains, and gets a tongue stuck out at him for his troubles.
"All things are connected," Zhen-La tells them both. "All things flow, inwards and out and inwards again, ripple into ripple into ripple. There is no ultimate beginning, no final ending, no destination; for each ending is a beginning, each beginning an ending. Every moment defines its past and creates its future, for every moment is this moment. All time is Now. All space is Here. We are all one; and One, we are All."
Between a light sugar dusting of clouds, the honeyed sun pours down out of the cornflower blue sky. A soft breeze whispers through the glittering grass, clatters bronze leaves and tousles their hair. In the pond, ripples spread and rebound, washing through each other, misting them with fine spray; the fish swim around each other in slow spirals, over and over and over.
"I think," Si says slowly -- then he looks up at the both of them, flashing a wide, impish grin. "I think it's lunch-time!"
Zhen-La laughs her tinkling laugh as a chime rises all around them. "That too is wisdom, little belly."
Both boys rise together and bow to her, open palm above fist, a flame made of fingers. Zhen-La dips her fingers in the water and reaches out, three fingers together to draw wet lines across their right eyes in blessing. They stare in surprise, eyes perfect matching gold, and she bows solemnly, holding it until they bow back.
"Off with you then," she laughs. "You have flight lessons with Mamet after lunch; don't forget."
"Forget flying?" Si scoffs. "As if!" He tugs at the other boy. "Come on, or Jules will have eaten everything."
The blond nods, following after, but he pauses at the arch and looks back. "Sifu? Is it true -- I mean, that all the old places here were full of people? Before Reformation?" Zhen-La nods. "Where did they go?"
"Into history," she says.
He frowns. "Past or future?" She just looks at him. His frown clears, and he smiles, making an affirmative noise as he nods. "G'journey, Sifu!"
Without waiting for an answer, he spins on the spot and races after his friend, the two of them leaping easily from roof to roof, wall to wall, pillar to pillar, as they descend through the empty city, laughing, glittering and flashing as the copper veins weaving through their skin catch the sun.
There is a teacher watching them go, whispering "Into history" as she stands and takes her broom. For a second, just for a second, she is wrapped in shimmering yellow light, a halo, a shield. Then she is sweeping, simply sweeping the metal moss around the white stone pond. There are twin koi, swimming round and round. There is glittering water.
There is a garden.
There is a garden. In this garden, there is a koi pond made of white stone, in which twin fish swim, one white with a black spot, one black with a white spot. A teacher, whose name is Zhen-La is sitting next to the pond, wearing loose fitting robes of palest yellow. Two young students, boys, sit beside her. One is white. One is black.
Zhen-La is drawing circles in the pond with one, long, pale finger. "Time," she says, in her soft, sweet voice, "is matter of thought. It is merely the means we use to divide ourselves from ourselves so that we may seem to progress. We see it as a path, from point to point to point, like spokes on a wheel, like the circle; yet time is the pond, surrounding, encompassing and being all things."
The silver-blond boy stares intently into the water, watching the ripples spread and intersect, pink cheeks flushed. The other boy laughs heartily, teeth a flash of white against the darkness of his skin, his curls bouncing.
"Then what are the fish, miss?" he asks.
She smiles. "What would you like them to be?"
He blinks at her, looks thoughtful for a moment, and then grins again. "My lunch!"
The blond boy glares at him, before turning to their teacher. "Sifu," he asks, "do you mean that, um, that events aren't separate? That the future is already happening, and the past too?"
Zhen-La nods, even as she corrects him, "Do not say that everything happens at once; say, rather, that at once, everything happens."
"That's the same thing," the other boy complains. "If everything happens now, it must be now that everything happens. That just stands to reason. You can't have one without the other."
"Can't you?" she asks mildly, smiling down at him.
He huffs. "No!"
The blond boy elbows him. "Don't be rude, Si," he complains, and gets a tongue stuck out at him for his troubles.
"All things are connected," Zhen-La tells them both. "All things flow, inwards and out and inwards again, ripple into ripple into ripple. There is no ultimate beginning, no final ending, no destination; for each ending is a beginning, each beginning an ending. Every moment defines its past and creates its future, for every moment is this moment. All time is Now. All space is Here. We are all one; and One, we are All."
Between a light sugar dusting of clouds, the honeyed sun pours down out of the cornflower blue sky. A soft breeze whispers through the glittering grass, clatters bronze leaves and tousles their hair. In the pond, ripples spread and rebound, washing through each other, misting them with fine spray; the fish swim around each other in slow spirals, over and over and over.
"I think," Si says slowly -- then he looks up at the both of them, flashing a wide, impish grin. "I think it's lunch-time!"
Zhen-La laughs her tinkling laugh as a chime rises all around them. "That too is wisdom, little belly."
Both boys rise together and bow to her, open palm above fist, a flame made of fingers. Zhen-La dips her fingers in the water and reaches out, three fingers together to draw wet lines across their right eyes in blessing. They stare in surprise, eyes perfect matching gold, and she bows solemnly, holding it until they bow back.
"Off with you then," she laughs. "You have flight lessons with Mamet after lunch; don't forget."
"Forget flying?" Si scoffs. "As if!" He tugs at the other boy. "Come on, or Jules will have eaten everything."
The blond nods, following after, but he pauses at the arch and looks back. "Sifu? Is it true -- I mean, that all the old places here were full of people? Before Reformation?" Zhen-La nods. "Where did they go?"
"Into history," she says.
He frowns. "Past or future?" She just looks at him. His frown clears, and he smiles, making an affirmative noise as he nods. "G'journey, Sifu!"
Without waiting for an answer, he spins on the spot and races after his friend, the two of them leaping easily from roof to roof, wall to wall, pillar to pillar, as they descend through the empty city, laughing, glittering and flashing as the copper veins weaving through their skin catch the sun.
There is a teacher watching them go, whispering "Into history" as she stands and takes her broom. For a second, just for a second, she is wrapped in shimmering yellow light, a halo, a shield. Then she is sweeping, simply sweeping the metal moss around the white stone pond. There are twin koi, swimming round and round. There is glittering water.
There is a garden.