Many swing bridges connect the Koti monastery, which sits atop high pillars. Oren was standing alone on one, rocking it back and forth. He wasn't scared by the thousands of feet dropping below him. He had grown up running around these high pillars and buildings; the concept of heights didn't really factor.
Oren saw that Master Orono was watching him. He had a wry grin on his face.
"Reminds me of days in my youth," Orono said.
Orono was a small elderly man. His diminutive size didn't diminish his child-like personality. He exuded immense warmth and intelligence, making him popular at the Monastery.
Master Orono had honey-like skin, kind eyes, and a white pointed goatee. All the monks wore linen robes of varied colors, but Orono usually wore yellow linens. His hair was completely shaved, but this was more likely because little hair was left to grow.
As he was the Master who taught how to connect with animals, it wasn't odd to see Orono talking to a bird that had come to a stop away from the updrafts.
"You should come join me and relive your young days." Oren invited.
"I would if I could figure your purpose in randomly shaking the bridge. Were you chasing a bothersome insect away?"
"No, just having fun."
"In that case, I think I will join you."
"Will you now?" Master Nokomis said, surprising Orono.
"No, I suppose I have better things to do," Orono said, dejectedly walking away.
"Yes, you have." Nokomis scolded. "Oren, I suspect you also have better things to do."
"No, not really."
"You don't have any studies?"
"All done for the day."
"Prayers?"
"Already prayed plenty of times."
"With that attitude, I would say a couple more wouldn't hurt."
Master Nokomis was the Martial Arts teacher, and even Oren was intimidated by him. Oren was pushing his luck.
Master Nokomis was tall, stoutly built, and had a deep voice. He wore green robes and had a nicely kept white beard and hair. He was obsessed with discipline, almost too so.
"The way you're jumping about makes my nerves hop. At least do me the favor of taking that energy elsewhere. Somewhere, you're not dangling over a high precipice."
"Alright." Oren was getting bored with it anyway.
Oren was still restless and sat next to the koi pond. He stirred his hand in the water, trying to disturb the fish. Orange and white bodies jutted about, looking for hiding spaces.
"Careful, Oren, the tormentor can quickly turn into the tormented." Master Mahkota said delicately. She came to sit next to him at the man-made pond.
"I don't mean to torment them." Oren defended.
"The path one starts isn't always the path that follows. Just because we start with good intentions doesn't mean the outcome will always be good. Many of the worst things ever started with a good intention."
"I must confess, Master, that I will know what is right, and then, for reasons beyond me, I desire to do the opposite."
"That happens to us all. You were a little careless in your thoughts and were bored. Without thought or intent, you proceeded. It led to nothing this time, but this is why we teach you about the preciousness of the moment. When we let our minds slip, these things can happen. When we live in the moment or live intentionally, we can recognize our thoughts and let them pass." Mahkota explained.
"It is always so difficult, yet so simple."
"One should never live a life of complexity. Simplify the mind, heart, action, and life will flow effortlessly."
"Yes, Master, only…." Oren paused.
"Only it actually isn't that easy to do, but easy to say." Mahkota finished his thought.
"Yes."
Mahkota was small in stature and frame. She had olive skin and wore grey robes. Her shaved head and middle age didn't hide that she was still beautiful. She beamed with serenity that she spread to all blessed by her company.
She was always there for Oren when he needed comfort. As the Master who taught about the mystical side of the connection, she had a surprising practical side.
Oren once saw her conjure a storm out of a sunny day. She could be open as a book and deeply mysterious. Even at a young age, Oren had a crush on her.
"I must be going; see you at evening prayers?" Mahkota asked.
"Yes, Master."
Oren had seen every stone and pebble in the Monastery a million times. There was only so much to explore on top of steep pillars. Too much of his daily life was repetitive. Prayer and then lessons. Prayer and then lessons. Over and over, it repeated. He received teachings on varied subjects, but they were the same teachers and the same order of classes.
Oren was only hearing of life beyond the Monastery. He wanted to explore the great big world and truly see new people. Learn things that monks couldn't teach him. Oren had made up his mind. He was going to ask Master Hiawatha to leave the Monastery.
Oren didn't want to leave for good or even a long time. He just wanted to visit the local village and see life being lived. How can he be the one to save others when he never met any?
"Master Hiawatha." Oren said.
"Yes. What is it, Oren?" Master Hiawatha answered, not paying attention. He was busy watering the plants.
"I was wondering if I could ask you something?"
"Yes, go ahead. You can ask me anything; it is my job as your teacher." Hiawatha said, continuing his chore.
"I think we should visit the local town."
"I'm sorry, what?" Hiawatha spun around to look at Oren now. "What do you wish?"
"To go to town. Not by myself. I think we should go to town and get to know them a little."
"Oren, I have told you it could be dangerous to expose you to others. It may lead evil people to us, attract attention." Hiawatha warned.
Hiawatha shifted uncomfortably in his orange robes. He scratched his old bald head. Oren was very good at increasing the wrinkles on Hiawatha's increasingly wrinkled face. Hiawatha adjusted his glasses, perhaps as a way to soothe his stress.
"Master, you have taught me to avoid extremes. If I were to indulge all my desires, it would lead to one extreme with negative consequences. To cut ourselves off from everything is only another extreme. It, too, has negative results. As Master Mahkota reminded me, intending good doesn't always lead to good." Oren started.
"Alright, I am willing to hear you out. Continue."
"The Masters have taught me that we can't avoid our desires and emotions. Nor can we avoid our connection to all things. We are to experience life, even the negative parts. Especially the negative parts, or we won't grow. Isn't that correct?"
"I see you listen more than you let on; that is correct."
"I am not asking for this to become a regular habit. I think it would help me to understand the lessons I'm learning and to see them in practice. Here in the Monastery, I have no connection to life. Not as others live it. The people who live below are living life. We are hiding from it to a degree. We are not testing ourselves to the fullest here. We are not living life to its fullest."
"But our primary goal here isn't to live life. We are dedicated to keeping you safe."
"You can't protect me forever."
"No, but we also have time on our side. We can wait until you are older for such a trip."
"Why? Why do you get to decide when I am ready?"
"Because we are your guardians."
"You can't protect yourselves from me. If I wanted to go, none of you could stop me."
"We are not just protecting you from others. We are protecting the world from you, and most importantly, we protect you from yourself. As you pointed out, we can do nothing to stop you if you want to do something. Except, we hope that there is one thing to stop you."
"What's that?"
"We have raised you, all of us here, and we have developed love and respect for you. We hope that you have developed love and respect for us. That is why I ask you to listen, out of love for us. To respect our judgment."
"I do love and respect everyone here," Oren admitted.
"Then you will respect my advice to wait."
"It isn't out of disrespect, Master, that I ask. I genuinely believe it will benefit me as well as the others. Here at the Monastery, we greatly rely on the nearby villagers to provide us with food and supplies. We need them more than they need us. I have observed that the monks have grown distant from the villagers."
"In what sense do you mean?"
"They toil to provide for themselves and us, as we have little resources. And yet, when they deliver these sacrifices to us, I see little gratitude from us anymore. I see routine and callousness."
"Perhaps you are right about that. I will mention it to the others."
"They give up a lot for us, as they have very little, yet they still share it. We give little back to them. We sit up on high as if we are their Gods and make little effort even to know their names."
"To my shame, that is true." Hiawatha accepted.
"It is fraudulent of us as spiritual leaders to take from people and give them so little back. Offering blessings, prayers, and words does little to fill their bellies."
"I see you have thought a lot about this."
"Yes, and so you can see why I think a small group visiting the villagers can go a long way. Reconnect with them. A message shouted from afar will not be heard or felt. We have to live among them. Feel what they feel. A shepherd needs to be among his flocks. We have become a shepherd that gets fat while our flock starves. They deserve our gratitude and our lending hand."
"I hate to say it, but I think you are winning this argument." Hiawatha conceded, "Once again, I must always remind myself that the teacher is also a student. We are all teaching and learning at the same time."
"So when do we leave?" Oren asked enthusiastically.
"Hold on. I must discuss this with the others. Make plans."
"Yeah, but if you ask, the others will follow it," Oren said.
"Is that so? Just because I am head of this cuckoo place doesn't mean anyone listens to me. You, for example."
"Me? Troublesome?" Oren said playfully.
"I was quite the little skunk when I was young as well. Gave some of my teachers all kinds of fits. This is the universe bringing it back to me. You'll get your trip."
———
Getting a single person up or down from the Monastery takes a while. Some paths can only take you so far up the pillars. If the rope breaks, there is no backup system. There have been incidents of lost cargo and lives over the years.
At a certain point, a basket with a rope and pully system is the only way to continue. You could attempt to free-climb the rest of it, but it hasn't yielded good results over the centuries.
Master Hiawatha led a group of twenty-five monks, including Oren, into nearby villages. It took considerable time to lower each person down as you could only do it one at a time.
Once everyone was down, the monks in their simple robes and sandals went to give their gratitude to the local villagers for all their sacrifices on the monk's behalf.
The monk's first stop was in the rice paddy terraces leading up the Monastery's slopes. A line of workers stood in the water, plunging their hands into the muck to plant the rice in a straight line.
Master Hiawatha found the Foreman.
"Blessings, what brings you down from the pillars? Are you in need of more food?" The Foreman asked as the farmers paused their work to bow to the monks.
"No, quite the opposite. We wanted to represent the Monastery in extending our gratitude for all that you do for us, all of you." Hiawatha said and then gestured to the monks. "It is us who should bow to you." And the monks all lowered themselves and said thanks.
"There is no need." The Foreman tried to say.
"Yes, there is. In fact, we came to help you with your work if we can?" Hiawatha asked.
The farmers looked at each other and seemed unsure how to answer.
"Sure, some extra help would be welcomed." The Foreman said.
"Show us what you want us to do. We are your servants. Do not be afraid to boss us around." Hiawatha encouraged.
The monks rolled up the sleeves of their robes and were not afraid to get dirty. Oren was right there with them.
"Your Child doesn't need to help; we have plenty." The Foreman tried to reason.
"This was my idea, so I very much want to help," Oren said.
"Thank you, young man, for your generosity."
"This is nothing compared to the generosity all of you have shown us. I wouldn't be here without your rice to feed me every day. Thank you." Oren said sincerely.
After the work was finished, the monks introduced themselves and got to know the names of the farmers. The farmers all seemed curious about Oren. It was not common knowledge that a child lived amongst the monks.
Oren asked each farmer if there was anything they needed and that from now on when they come to deliver rice, the farmers must bring a list of things they need.
The monks enjoyed themselves so much that they began to make thesis trips regularly. They would see different farmers and artisans each time.
The monks and Oren would offer help with the work and offer to get people what they needed. Many of the villagers only wanted spiritual advice. The monks would offer private counsel to those who asked. But Oren was always the star of each encounter.
Oren had a big laugh, and a smile always appeared on his face. His kind heart endeared him quickly to the villagers. The villagers could not believe that someone so small was so wise.
Besides advice, the monks ensured the villagers had proper medicines, clothing, and tools. The monks were able to do this by exchanging things. They could give art from Master Anoka in exchange for tools and then exchange the tools for clothing. Whatever it took to get one commodity that was surplus to one but a need to others.
On one of the trips into town, Oren had heard that Juatan had not come to work because he was very sick. Oren went to the house of Juatan.
"May I be allowed to comfort him?" Oren asked Juatan's wife, Katjuk.
"He is very sick; I don't want you to catch it," Katjuk said.
"I won't because I can help him."
"How can you help him?" Katuk asked.
"Master Shakopee taught me how to heal," Oren said.
"I forget that the Masters have incredible powers. It didn't occur to me that a young boy like you could do it too."
"You'd be surprised." Oren chuckled.
Oren placed his hands on Juatan, and almost instantly, he was cured.
Katjuk gasped and couldn't believe what she saw.
"What is this miracle? How is it I am well?" Juatan asked.
"You were sick, and now you are well. Bad news, you can go to work again." Oren said.
"By what power have you done this? Can all the monks heal like this Child?" Katjuk asked.
"Yes, most of the monks can do this.' Oren said.
"But I mean, with such speed, can they do this? It was as if you were in command over the living and the dead; it happened so fast." Katjuk questioned.
"I do not command anything. The Source of All Things is the power behind this."
"How can such a young boy know this? Who are you really?"
"I am still Oren. The Child you befriended in the fields. I only came here to help. There is no need to be afraid." Oren said, sensing the couple's growing fear. "I must leave now."
Word of what Oren had done spread quickly throughout Lusa Island. Every village was becoming aware that a unique child lived among the monks. Each time they would visit the villagers, people wanted more of Oren. They brought sick children and parents. Oren would heal all of them.
It was starting to get out of hand. The Masters were beginning to worry that this was becoming a problem. They wanted to be grateful and feared the people would start withholding supplies if Oren didn't do what they wanted.
A villager came to Oren one day, and the Masters asked if he could help a small girl who was very sick. Oren agreed. By the time they reached the small house, the mother of the ill Child was outside sobbing.
"It is too late. My Child is dead."
"Let me look at her?" Oren said.
Oren found the small Child lying in bed with its eyes closed. He felt the girl's forehead, and it seemed that the mother was right; the Child had passed away. Oren said some prayers and then told the Child to wake up. Rise from her short slumber. To come back from death. The Child's parents were in the room watching.
"It is no use. She is gone." The Father conceded.
"No, she is alive," Oren informed them.
The girl's eyes opened, and she sat up to look at her parents.
"Mother, father, why are you crying?" The girl asked.
Her parent's tears turned from sorrow to joy, and they went to hug their Child.
Oren went outside to go back to the Monastery. The girl's parents stop him.
"Wait! What game is this?" The girl's Father asked.
Oren was unsure what he was getting at, "Game? I don't understand."
"How did you get her to fake her death? She fooled even the doctors. No one can bring someone back from the dead, not even the Masters." The Father accused.
"There is no deception. She was dead, but now she can live again." Oren thought this should explain it.
"No, this is false; this is a trick. You are a deceiver. Were the others a part of your tricks as well."
"There is no trick. You asked me to come. I helped her, and now I am going." Oren was becoming angry that they would accuse him of such deceit. Master Hiawatha had come with him and sought to quell the situation.
"We are going. Be glad in your miracle." Hiawatha said.
The Masters kept Oren from helping for a while after that. The villagers were divided over what had happened. Some thought he was a demon. Some thought he was just a magician, while others thought he was a God.
Oren didn't care about what they were saying. He just wanted to help. Then, Oren remembered Mahkota's warning of how good intentions can have negative consequences. Oren had started to feel like he knew his place, and it was to help people. Now, he knew it would never be that simple.