The Potter's Notebook by Frank Giovinazzi, a historical novel set in 17th century Japan, is available on the Amazon Kindle platform and in paperback.
Nine Hideaki laughed at that memory. He would give anything for the ability to disappear into the surface of the exposed rockface he was now climbing. He was certain he had already traveled most of the way to the peak, but he just passed a marker that announced only 500 meters to the top. All the while, the sound of the group of children laughing and making their way much easier and quicker - they were closer now than he was - was mixi ng with the natural sounds of the mountain, creating a soundtrack that seemed to make light of the trouble he was having.He mopped his neck and face with the soaked cloth. The final leg of the climb was aided by a system of chains strung along a series of posts criss-crossing the naked peak. A low rumble sounded behind him that was disconsonant with the normal murmuring of the mountain. The storm clouds had returned and were rolling across the valley. He had to get to the top and hope there was a shelter down on the other side of the peak. Getting caught in a petulant downpour was dangerous enough, but the threat of lightning, increased along this circuit of lightning rods, was not something he wanted to face. He stuffed his personal towel behind his neck and shoved off. * * * Hideaki and the old man came out on the other side of the rock face onto a scene even more breathtaking. The first thing the boy became conscious of was the sound of water. Big and loud, rushing from several directions, sounds that gave the impression of speed and force, as if they were on dry ground at the heart of a whirlpool. Hideaki blinked, looking around to focus on all the images, which at first were a series of blurs, outlines coming into focus before his eyes, reality coming onto shape for his mind to comprehend. He was nauseous from the effect of having stepped into a world that he somehow knew was always here, but was slowing down for him to climb aboard. Like watching a merry-go-round slow down from its frolicsome whirling, it made you slightly queasy to look at it. Kind of like the way he feels at school sometimes. "This is not the time to be feeling sorry for yourself. You are in the midst of a great opportunity. Should you wish, remorse is a popular destination and easy to visit." The old man was scolding him, but there was a hint of mischief in his voice. "Come. We meet old friends and new." Hideaki still felt the effects of an upset stomach, The sound of the water rushed in his ears and all around him. Because of its connection to the sound he focused on one of the large waterfalls in the cove. There were several, around them on all sides; it was as if they were in a nexus point for all the water that flowed through Japan. He walked, the first few steps a little off-balance, behind the old man, looking at a shrine woven with the ferns that grew from one of the boulder rock gardens he had come to appreciate. It appeared to be a medium size boulder, maybe three times bigger than him, had moss growing from ground level all the way to the crown, with a few small ferns here and there culminating in a dense cluster of shrubs at the top. They were pruned and woven to form a half-enclosed shrine around the figure of a seated Buddha. The tan stalks of the ferns and pointed green leaves, created a shelter separate from nature but also a living part of it. Hideaki shook his head, revisiting the nausea, and a blurring of his vision at the same time. The shrine was bigger than he first thought, as was the boulder, standing more than five times over his own head. And the seated figure within the leafy shrine was real. He gaped at the scene. The shrine was almost a hundred centimeters high and housed a seated figure clad in monk's robes. The eyes were closed, the whole form was as immovable as a statue, but Hideaki knew he was looking at a living man. The skin was too natural, the hair too realistic. A living shrine. "Everyone has Buddha nature." The old man was patient, stopping for the boy. Hideaki watched as a monk bowed and prayed to the figure, while another pair of monks made their way up the boulder to pay homage to the man-statue. He couldn't see stairs carved in the rock, they seemed to be walking on the surface of the moss itself, following a spiral pattern along the curvature of the boulder's circumference. "They're following the example of the moss, making their way on the boulder along the line of least resistance." The old man remained still, but was urging the boy to move on in his silent way. Hideaki was full of questions roiling around in his head the same way the scene they now inhabited had swirled into being just minutes before. "Everyone takes turns perched as the deity. In this manner they practice divinity. They also see the folly of others worshiping them. Those who worship learn to respect everyone as a Buddha, and also learn the futility of worshiping idols." The smell of wood burning caught Hideaki's attention, as they walked and he listened. Following the wood smell came that of cooking vegetables, carrots, onions, and a musky aroma of the sauce they were simmering in. The smells came from nowhere and everywhere at the same time. Monks clad in in simple robes passed them, but none made much their sudden appearance in their world. Those who did acknowledge the old man did so with a look of long-bred recognition, but with a reserve that suggested they would not intrude unless invited. They passed another large waterfall, whose broad, noisome discharge fell into a recessed pool several monks were using for bathing and washing robes. Far above that waterfall, seemingly inaccessible, was an overhang that opened into a cave. The entrance of the cave opened broad then narrowed at the ends, making it look like an open mouth. The boy wondered if it was a passage into yet another word in the mountainside Hideaki thought he knew so well but was becoming more mysterious. "Yes, but it is a world that is much darker than this, and for those in far more dire stress than you find yourself. You are here to avoid having to eventually make that trip." Hideaki looked up at the yawning cave again. Several monks were working at the far left, tending swarms of bees and their hives. The bees clung to the monks like a second layer of robes, undulating with the breeze and the millibeatings of their translucent wings. Hideaki was mesmerized by the natural and willful quality of the living garment they created on the monks' bodies. For their part, the monks were serene, moving and acting as if they did not notice they were the focal point of a living swarm. The monks removed honeycomb cells from each hive, placing them in a bamboo basket and moving on to the next. Hideaki broke the trance and saw that streams of bees were flying from the trees and bushes that surrounded the cove, back to their hives and then back again. A constant conduit of flight on the errands that defined their existence. Movement registered to the right of the cave. The lead figure was a monk wearing a heavier, traveling robe, with a staff in his hand and sleeping mat and hat strapped to his chest. Three other figures soon followed, not monks but people like Hideaki himself, people who did not belong here. They were the only thing he had seen that was out of place. Unlike Hideaki, they were destined for a different type of journey. They reached the monk and stood forlornly at the mouth of the cave. "They did not heed the opportunities given to them. They are moving on to the next life, where they will repeat many of the same trials they encountered in their previous existence. They are in despair not because of what lies before them, but because it was in their power to prevent it. They failed themselves. That is the cause of the greatest despair one can know." There was sadness in the old man's voice. He understood that despair. "Come." They wound their way through the rest of the compound. There were gardens and workshops, filled with monks coming and going, all doing their work without ever seeming tired or hurried. The two travelers were never acknowledged with more than a brief glance. Finally, they arrived at the largest structure in the cove. The old man led the way onto the long wooden porch and into the building. He knew exactly where he was going, even though they were winding their way along a series of corridors, inner courtyards and gardens that seemed to have no logical plan. Hideaki was awestruck by the simplicity of the building, that nowhere displayed gaudy cloths, brightly colored ornaments or figures of deities. Everything was plain, the woodwork simple and precise, the gardens exquisite. If the building were abandoned, Hideaki felt it would be reclaimed by mountain growth so perfectly it would never be discovered. They arrived at the entrance to the innermost garden. Hideaki looked past the old man's shoulder to see a re-creation of the entire cove. Everything was there, the waterfalls, rock garden with organic shrine, though the boy noticed with a smile, the figure inside the miniature version was actually a statue. Even the cave that loomed over the entire cove was there, crafted from a natural rock formation that rose above the garden, where the building came to an end. There was no movement in the courtyard except for a pair of butterflies pirouetting frenetic midair spirals. "Come," and they entered together, Hideaki mimicking the old man's reverential change of pace. They didn't walk into the garden as much as wade into its meditative aura. One of the butterflies landed on a vine next to Hideaki's shoulder. The creature appeared to have flown out of a stained glass window. Mostly pearl white, interspersed with black veins that framed rust, green and tan colorations into individual cells, it looked more like a computer generated fantasy than a living being. It winked its stained glass wings at the boy. It had landed on a raspberry vine. Hideaki picked one of the bristling orange fruits, crushing it in his mouth and enjoying the cool sweet-tart flavor. He picked more, greedily stuffing them into his mouth. The butterfly flapped its wings in rapid succession. Hideaki's mouth was overflowing with the taste, curdling from the acid of the raspberries, when he saw one more just out of reach. He started to stretch for it when he heard the old man's voice. "Concentrate on the experience you already have before you grasping for the next. That way, you remain awake and never lose a moment of life." The voice was stern, unforgiving. Hideaki stole a last glance at the unreachable fruit, turned back to enjoying the succulence of that was in his mouth, and followed the old man again. Birds were singing out of sight, exuberant, chirpy progressions of song that served no purpose but the song itself. The foot path took then around around the miniature cave, past a shallow stream that featured several turtles sunning themselves atop a protruding dead log. Over a small footbridge they came to a small clearing where several small boulders were arranged in a semicircle. On top of the central boulder was an old monk wearing a simple grey cloth robe. Even seated, Hideaki could see he was a tall and stately man. He looked younger than the old man. His face was longer, less weathered, and more evenly serene than that of the boy's tireless mentor. His eyes were closed, his face slightly tilted to the sun, drinking in its warmth and reflecting some of that radiance back to the sky above. There was a long pause. The seated monk had registered their presence, but kept his eyes closed for a moment longer. As if he was calling back his mind, his awareness, back to the waking world. When he opened his eyes, Hideaki gasped. Slate grey, illumined with a sparkling brilliance that spoke of ages lived and lifetimes recorded. His own, and others'. The boy was looking into eyes that had lived countless lifetimes, and was consciously aware of them, even though they were also fully alert in this life, right now. The eyes were rich with experience and wisdom, and though Hideaki knew that as they looked upon him they knew every flaw and weakness in his character, he also knew that he stood before those eyes without being judged. He was accepted for who he was. "Of course." The voice matched the eyes, a soothing baritone that had endured through the ages. He stood, unfolding his body to its full, tall length. "Come, we will have a meal together." Even the old man was in service to the Abbot of this hidden monastery, following with Hideaki inside the closest door. Inside was a simple room, open on both sides for views of both the inner courtyard and the cove beyond. This section of the building was built equal to the highest point of the cove, and Hideaki enjoyed looking down on the real cove and the re-creation alternately. "They are both real, they both have their own nature. If the courtyard was the only thing you had ever seen, it would be the real one. If you then saw the cove where we live and work, you might say it was modeled on the courtyard." The slate grey eyes smiled at Hideaki, flecks of sun yellow twinkling around the edges. Hideaki looked at the courtyard, then the cove, appreciating both and laughing out loud. The meal was a selection of fruits and honey. A small bowl of orange raspberries, another with a sprig of loquats on the branch, and tangerines on a plate. The Abbot sat in a very un-monk like way, lounging rather than using a rigid disciplinary posture. The old man sat with his legs folded underneath him, as did Hideaki. There was no conversation. The monk stood and served weak fruit tea, Hideaki enjoying the sight of pits swirling in the bottom of his cup. He tried to eat slowly, though his mouth was exploding with saliva and desire. The Abbot sat again, peeling a loquat and pushing the whole thing in his mouth, laughing as he did so, wiping a little drool and juice off the side of his face. Hideaki was working on a tangerine, trying to peel it rather than rip it open, when, Bam! something plinked the tip of his nose. He saw something fly away, like a big fly maybe. He looked around, saw the old man was smiling, etching deep lines in his sun-beaten face. The Abbot was studying the cove. Hideaki looked down again, and a few seconds later, Bam! it happened again. He brushed his nose, and saw a loquat pit on the low table. The old man was laughing softly without making a sound, the Abbot also smiling with a little bit of juice forming at his lip. Hideaki went back to his tangerine when he felt it coming before it hit and he looked up. Bam! The Abbot spit a loquat pit right at the end of his nose, and it hit as squarely as the previous two. All three of them broke out laughing, the boy from shock and the other two with friendliness. "Sometimes things happen to us and we don't know where they come from,” the slate grey eyes said, "and sometimes we do things for others they can't explain." The Abbot made liberal use of the honey. He was dunking his fruit in it, his fingers in it, and when they were done, he licked the bowl! This monk wasn't like any Hideaki had ever heard of. "Once you've mastered the basics you can break the rules a little." The slate grey eyes were warm and accepting. "There are many responsibilities here. Laughter is appropriate in the right measure." The Abbot rose as he said this, and led the three of them to a small staircase that led to the top of the building through a trap door out into the sunshine. Hideaki was the last one on the roof. The two old men grabbed hold of each shoulder as he was pushing himself through the small opening. He wasn't sure why, this should be no problem, the roof looked flat. He accepted their help and brought himself to a full standing position. He looked down at the cove, focusing on what was near, the shrines, the waterfalls and the big cave. The old men still had their hands on his shoulders. Why?Hideaki's stomach fell out from within him. His knees buckled and his sight blurred. Beyond the cover there was nothing but an endless, infinite depth of cobalt blue. Hideaki's mind wanted to call it an ocean, but that wasn't accurate. It was above them, on all sides, and it seemed from the rooftop vantage, underneath them as well. His eyes experienced it as his mind groped for something to compare it to. The cove was a world unto itself, floating in a sea, or a space, of blue. That's what Hideaki's mind settled on. It was like being on a small planet in the midst of infinite blue space. Read Chapter 10 of The Potter's Notebook.Frank Giovinazzi's Amazon Author Page FrankGiovinazzi.com |