by Greg Ripley
They ran. Weaving through the other foot traffic on the bridge made it challenging to stay together. They almost got separated more than once. The upshot was that the traffic would also slow down their pursuers. It took less than a minute to reach the car, though it felt much longer, the stress of the moment seeming to stretch the bridge out ahead of them. Rohini thought she’d never get across, then all of a sudden they were there, jumping into the car and taking off down the street. They all kept a watch out the window, looking to see if a car might be following. They didn’t see one, but as they hurtled down the street, they did see the two men on the curb looking down the street after them, one with a phone to his ear.
“We’re going to have to switch rides. We’ve given them the slip for now, but they know this car, they’ll be looking for it,” Jane said. “Guangming, Jimmie, any thoughts?”
After a brief exchange in Chinese with Aiguo, the driver, Guangming turned back to Jane, “No problem. Aiguo will get us a new car. I know we were planning on taking the train to Jinchang, but do you still think that’s wise?”
“Probably not. We’ve got to assume they’ll be watching the station. Would Aiguo be willing to drive us?”
Guangming conferred with Aiguo again. “He can, at least to Jinchang, and then he’s got to get back. But we can get someone from my family to take us from there.
33
Jinchang City
Gansu Province, China
After switching cars, they drove the four and a half hours to Jinchang, arriving in the early evening. As far as they could tell, they’d made it out of the city without being followed. Rohini was surprised to find a much larger city than she had anticipated from Guangming’s description.
“I must admit it has changed significantly since my childhood,” Guangming said. Like the rest of China’s cities, it had grown quickly in the last half century as more people left the agricultural sector and joined the urban masses. The population had grown to over 200,000, but by Chinese standards it was still a relative backwater.
Guangming had been hesitant to let his family know they were coming, assuming that his parents would tell all his relatives in the area, but he realized being in the bosom of his family would keep them safe. Since most of his extended family was involved with the society, they understood the need to keep things quiet, but not too quiet.
Guangming’s immediate family had taken them out, reserving a banquet room which seated twenty. It was at full capacity and then some as a few younger children where there too—cousins, nieces, and nephews of Guangming. The youngest ones spent most of the evening running around the table in circles when they weren’t sitting on their parents’ laps eating during the family-style dinner.
Most of them spoke little to no English, but they made sure Guangming’s friends felt welcome. They all chatted with Rohini and Jane, with Guangming interpreting when necessary. The center of attention for most of the evening was Jimmie—which was understandable—they did have a real live movie star in their midst, after all. She should have expected it, but over the past few days Rohini had stopped viewing Jimmie in that way. The close quarters of the Gulfstream and their long conversations brought him down to earth.
She had almost forgotten how she felt when she first saw him in the door of the jet until she saw the way Guangming’s family treated him. They shared a look across the room more than once that evening, Jimmie surrounded by admirers, while Rohini sat chatting with a few of the younger women closer to her age. There were several teenage girls there. Most of them were quite taken with Jimmie’s celebrity, but a few were more fascinated by Jane and Rohini, their eyes constantly on them throughout the dinner. She was beginning to feel a bit like a celebrity herself by the time they called it a night.
The next morning they woke early and headed on to Zhangye. They intended to get a driver from the society, but Guangming’s uncle had insisted he take them in his mini-van. While not the most luxurious ride—it was in dire need of a new suspension—it got them there in one piece.
“Don’t worry, Rohini, this will get you ready for the horseback ride into the mountains,” Jane joked.
“Well, if nothing else, it’s definitely low-key. If anyone is still looking for us, I doubt they’ll being looking for a beat-up old Mitsubishi mini-van.
Before taking them out of town, Guangming’s uncle wanted to show them Jinchang’s latest point of pride—a large complex of gardens recently built on the city’s western foothills. It was becoming quite a tourist attraction for the city. Jane was resistant to taking the time to sightsee after the men following them in Lanzhou, but she’d quickly realized they had no choice but to humor Guangming’s uncle. It helped that a few of Guangming’s relatives were on the local police force and had agreed to escort them to the gardens and keep an eye on them until they were safely on the road.
As they arrived at the new gardens, Rohini saw row upon row of lavender stretching over the hillsides—a riot of purple flowers—gently swaying in the breeze. They spent a little while walking around, taking in the sights and smells as they followed the paths through the gardens. Rohini had always loved lavender fields. Purple was one of her favorite colors, which might have explained it, but there was something about the scent too which drew her to it.
As they strolled through the fields, Rohini rubbed some of the lavender flowers, releasing the essential oils, and held her fingertips to her nose, breathing in the scent. As was often the case, she almost felt like huffing it. Lavender is considered relaxing, but Rohini always found it also somewhat invigorating, almost like the way tea could make you feel calm but alert.
Guangming’s uncle led them farther up the hillside to one of the newer sections of the gardens to show them the latest edition, an enormous taiji symbol made entirely of plants. It was surrounded by a group of symbols Rohini wasn’t as familiar with—she only knew they were called bagua—made up of groups of solid and broken lines symbolizing yang and yin respectively, but that was about the extent of her knowledge. She asked Guangming to tell her more.
“They represent the forces of nature which make up the world and are considered auspicious in feng shui, the Chinese system of geomancy. The lines represent different combinations of yin and yang, almost like binary code. This is how the Yijing, the ancient book of divination, works as well. When these eight symbols are combined in all their possible combinations you get the sixty-four symbols of the Yijing.
“There are two different arrangements of the symbols meant to represent the energy patterns of the universe before it came into being, and one which represents the way energy works now when the universe is manifest through the seasonal cycles. These are referred to as Earlier Heaven and Later Heaven. This is the Earlier Heaven arrangement. On the south end where we are is qian, the symbol for heaven, and on the north is kun, the symbol for earth, forming a vertical axis. The other symbols are also paired with their opposites across from them—mountain and lake, water and fire, and thunder and wind.”
“Feng Shui is like the interior decorating thing, right?” Jane said.
“Not exactly. Traditional Feng Shui is much more complicated. It takes into account features of the landscape and the influence of timing, similar to astrology. The sort of Feng Shui you’re thinking of is a modern simplification. It is a way of trying to bring balance into one’s life by increasing harmony in one’s home or office. Traditional Feng Shui practitioners might not give it much credence, but some of it is simply common sense—things like keeping your space uncluttered—but it is really my uncle who should be telling you about this, he knows much more than I do.”
Guangming and his uncle had a brief conversation in Chinese—ending with the two of them, as well as Jimmie, laughing at something. Guangming turned back to Jane and Rohini.
“My uncle said he only knows a little bit about it and that he is sure I have explained it to you very well. He’s just being m
odest. He’s actually well-known as a Feng Shui expert around Gansu. He’s quite in demand anytime someone with traditional sensibilities plans to build something. I think he’s just anxious to get on the road. Let’s head back to the van.”
“What was so funny?” Rohini asked, as they walked back to the van.
“Oh, my uncle made a joke. I told him he was just being modest, trying to be a zhan long, a hidden dragon, and he said, “No, I am simply a useless old tree.”
“It must lose something in translation,” Jane said.
“Yes, I suppose so. Wuo hu zhan long is a Chinese idiom you are probably familiar with, it means crouching tiger, hidden dragon.”
“Oh, like the movie,” Rohini replied.
“Yes, it refers to people having hidden talents—you never know what skills or expertise someone might have—the most humble, unpresuming people are often the most surprising,” Guangming said. “There is a similar idea among Daoists. We value humility as a virtue, especially when it comes to knowledge or spiritual attainments.”
“I have three treasures which I hold dear. The first is compassion. The second is frugality. The third is humility,” Rohini said, recalling the passage from the Daode Jing. “But what about the useless tree, is that another idiom?”
“In a way. It’s not as common perhaps, but it comes from a well-known story from the Book of Zhuangzi. The story goes that one day, Zhuangzi and his friend Hui Shi were having a philosophical discussion, as they often did. Hui Shi said to Zhuangzi, “I have a large tree. The trunk of this tree is so gnarled that it can’t be measured, and no good boards could be cut from it. Likewise, its branches are all too twisted for a straight cut or a square piece of wood to be gotten from it. If it were next to a road in plain sight, any self-respecting carpenter would walk right by without giving it a second thought. Your philosophy is the same, vast but useless. People pay it no mind.” To which Zhuangzi replied, “You shouldn’t try to fit this tree of yours into a preconceived notion of what is useful. Accepting it just as it is, you could rest in its shade, sleep beneath its branches, or simply admire its natural beauty. Instead of trying to find a use for this tree of yours, you should follow its example. A useless tree like that will live a long peaceful life. No axe will ever chop it down and no harm will come to it. If you can be useless, no one will ever trouble you.”
“So it was really a bit of a humble brag, then. Good one, Uncle,” Rohini said, smiling at the old man who smiled back, a twinkle in his eye.
Piling back into the van, they headed for the highway that would take them on to Zhangye, where they would meet with their guide and begin their journey into the Qilian Mountains for their meeting with the Guanzi.
34
Zhangye
Gansu Province, China
The eastern sky glowed with the first light of dawn, yet the sun wouldn’t appear over the mountains for another hour or so. They each rode their own horses, while their guide rode his horse and led another loaded with most of their supplies. The ride through the mountains to the Guanzi’s compound would take two and a half days. While Jane and Guangming were experienced riders, Rohini and Jimmie were not.
Rohini had gone on one of those horseback rides as a kid where some old, slow nag—who was content to just follow the horse in front of him—was led in a loop around a ranch for an hour, but that was it. Jimmie had been on a horse for a few days for a period piece he once starred in, but it was mainly for stationery close-ups, his stunt double did most of the real riding. It didn’t take long for Jane’s joke about chafing to come to mind.
The trip could be done quicker by more experienced riders, but with the challenging terrain and their novice status, they planned to take it easy—even planning to walk, leading their horses at times—both to give their backsides a break, and to help navigate some of the more challenging terrain.
Guangming had a general idea of the route, though he, like the rest of the group, had never been to see the Guanzi. His interactions with the Guanzi had always been through intermediaries—the Daoist priests who made up the society’s inner circle. He told Rohini and the others a bit about the trip the night before, but he left out some of the more notable features of the landscape, letting them remain a surprise. He knew what to expect along the way, but seeing it in person would be a thrill.
But most of all, he was anticipating meeting the Guanzi. The Guanzi’s wisdom was legendary and those who had been in the Guanzi’s presence said it was quite an experience. Rohini could imagine that perhaps it would be like when she had met President Johnson, or the way her aunt Shanti had described meeting the Dalai Lama in Dharamsala. The Guanzi must have that kind of gravitas.
They met their guide at the outskirts of the city. He was a jovial fellow with the sun-burnished cheeks of a life spent mostly outside. His most remarkable feature was a rough leather gauntlet on his left wrist. On it sat a large raven, as if it was a hunting falcon. As they prepared to mount their horses to leave, Rohini watched the guide release the raven, which flew off to the west towards the mountains. As it flew, disappearing into the distance, something didn’t seem quite right about it.
“Weird. I could have sworn that raven had three legs,” Rohini said. “What’s with the raven anyway?”
“It’s a messenger. The society uses them like carrier pigeons to deliver messages. He is just letting the Guanzi know we are on our way. The ravens carry a small tube in which the messages are carried. That must be what you saw hanging down,” Guangming said.
“Unless the bird is just well-endowed,” Jimmie said, eliciting a mix of groans and rolled eyes from Jane and Rohini.
Rohini gave him a shove. “What are you, five years old?” She said. He can be a bit juvenile from time to time, but he can also be quite charming.
Their ride began on a dirt road. The first several miles were well-used. It was a less frequented route to the first of the geographic features they would be encountering on their journey—and the one part of the trip Guangming was familiar with from past experience—the Rainbow Desert.
As the foothills of the Qilian Mountains rose gradually from the outskirts of the city, the road passed through a ridge cut, after which they caught their first sight of it. It immediately reminded Rohini of the redrock country around Jemez Pueblo in New Mexico she’d visited with her uncle.
Jemez was north of Albuquerque on the long way to Santa Fe. Past the pueblo, the road followed the Jemez River up a long canyon before climbing to Valles Caldera, a long-extinct volcano which was like a small world unto itself.
The caldera contained vast meadows and grasslands, and was home to thousands of elk, as well as some of the best trout streams in New Mexico, according to her uncle. The area was sacred to the Pueblo people, many of whom made pilgrimages to the sacred sites on its slopes. Rohini had never ventured into the caldera herself, she and her uncle had simply stopped off at the scenic overlooks along the highway before continuing past Los Alamos to Santa Fe, but it had been a striking sight.
The caldera itself, formed around a million years ago, was about a dozen miles wide with Redondo Peak in the center, sticking out like the hub of a wheel. Redondo Peak in turn, had been formed by a dome of magma after the collapse of the caldera itself. Several smaller domes had formed along the northern half of the caldera, but Redondo Peak was the most prominent of them, especially from the south.
The thought hadn’t occurred to her at the time, but now as she recalled the caldera in her mind’s eye from the back of her horse in the far reaches of northwest China, the structure of the caldera reminded her of a massive mandala, the symbolic representations of the cosmos used in India and the Himalayas. She’d been introduced to them by her aunt Shanti in Nepal.
Her aunt was a practitioner of Vajrayana, the Buddhism of Nepal and Tibet. On their trips around Nepal installing and teaching about solar technology, they’d often stopped off at temples and
shrines along the way, where she would follow her aunt’s lead, circumambulating the stupas and spinning the ubiquitous prayer wheels. She also recalled the earlier conversation she’d had with Guangming about sacred mountains.
Buddhists and Hindus consider certain mountains to be natural mandalas— like Mt. Kailash in western Tibet—taking pilgrimages to circumambulate the sacred peak. Her aunt made the pilgrimage the year before Rohini’s visit. They spent many nights discussing it that summer. Hindus saw the mountain as the abode of Shiva; Buddhists viewed it as the home of the Buddha Chakrasamvara. What sort of great being might call Valles Caldera home? she wondered.
As her thoughts returned to the present, her awareness was brought back to the rhythmic sway of the saddle under her, and the spectacular shades of red, yellow, and orange in the folds of the foothills around them. The Rainbow Desert certainly lives up to its name.
“Pretty amazing, isn’t it?” Jimmie said.
“Yeah, it reminds me a lot of New Mexico where my uncle lives, though it’s not this colorful,” she replied. “Have you ever been?”
“No, but I’ve heard great things,” Jimmie said. “People in New York and LA always rave about Santa Fe. I was afraid it had become overrun with celebrities and billionaires, but if this reminds you of it, that must not be the case. It’s so desolate out here, but beautiful in its own way.”
“The landscape is a lot like this, even down to the cave homes,” Rohini said. “The traditional houses there are made of adobe mud brick and plaster. The indigenous people there, the Pueblo, often made cave homes like the people here.”
As they continued through the surreal landscape of the Rainbow Desert, Rohini continued to marvel at the terrain. The hills were basically striped, with distinct bands of color cutting across the rolling ridges—the result of different minerals in the sediment which made up the layers of sandstone—before the tectonic uplift that formed the mountains pushed them up into their current state.