“Uh, I don't know,” Zoey frowned.
“That's close enough. It's 135.36617007214173.”
The peephole slid shut. Silence.
Zoey stared at the door, wondering what to do next. She took another deep breath and exhaled, waiting.
Waiting.
And waiting.
And waiting some more.
She looked around worriedly. Am I not supposed to be here or something?
She jerked back when she heard a loud clank, and bells jingled as the door slowly opened to reveal a white crane about five heads taller than her, and standing in the doorway. There was no expression of welcome on his face, or any gesture of hello. He didn't even give any indication that she was supposed to be there. In fact, he looked puzzled for a moment, then became all business-like, as if he had a million things to do.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” He waved her in, gesturing with his wing for her to hurry up. “Don't just watch me, let's move those legs. Come on, come on!”
Entering Spruce Hollow, Zoey noticed immediately how bright it seemed, despite the fading dusk outside. The walls were round, and had many lights shining from them. Zoey could tell they weren't light bulbs, though. They didn't glow the same way. They looked more like jagged rocks sitting in little indents made in the wood wall. The color of the light coming from them was exactly the same color she had seen being emitted from the Marble Burrow. The dark red wood was glossy, as if someone had sanded and stained it, like her dad did to the doors at home. Zoey followed the wall all the way up with her eyes, fifteen floors or so, where it stopped, and opened up to the sky.
There's no roof, thought Zoey in wonder. It was a large, wide, open, windowless skylight.
Looking at the very top of Spruce Hollow, she panned down from floor to floor, noticing that each floor had a balcony going all the way around it with a gold railing along the edge. At every fifty feet or so, doors were set slightly back from the railings and against the wall. Each door was red with a gold latch, and had numbers on it.
The floor where she stood was made out of the same beautiful red wood that covered the walls. Several huddled masses of young birds, many seeming to be her own age, or just a little older, mingled in front of her, laughing and talking amongst each other.
The crane cleared his throat, startling Zoey out of her Spruce Hollow trance.
“Are you done enjoying the view?”
Zoey nodded absently. “Oh, yeah. Sorry.”
He gave her a stern stare that seemed more sarcastic than serious. Then he turned, looking at a tablet that stood erect about five feet to the right of the entrance door. The tablet was gray, and resembled a gravestone that arched at the crown. It had a perfectly round green crystal embedded in the middle of it that was pulsing with light.
The crane observed Zoey eyeing the crystal. “That's an emerald, my dear.” Quickly changing the subject, he asked, “You say your name is Zoey? Or is it Um-Zoey?”
“Just Zoey,” she mumbled.
“Humph,” snorted the crane. He bent down and peered into the tablet. Suddenly Zoey saw a beam of green light eject vertically out of the emerald, projecting a three dimensional image just above it. The image contained writing in her language as well, but she couldn't see exactly what was written.
“Ah yes, there you are.” The crane turned back to Zoey and the image instantly disappeared. “Do you know what your name means?”
She shook her head.
“Well, it means 'life'. It's a good meaning, so don't forget it.”
“I won't,” she nodded.
The crane searched deep into Zoey’s eyes for several seconds, then closed one eye, leaning in a little closer. His beak nearly touched hers. He smiled. “Nope, you won't. You've got something in you that you don't even know about...” he paused, standing straight up, only to bend down to look at her again, “…yet.”
He stepped back and held his wing out to her. “Pleased to meet you. I'm Taregan.”
Zoey looked at the wing, but didn't know what to do with it.
He sighed, “Just touch my wing with your wing. It's called a wing shake.”
She held out her wing and touched his. The wing shake was short-lived because something quickly distracted him. His eyes widened in surprise. “A bag? Why do you have a bag?”
Zoey followed Taregan's line of sight and saw an orange suitcase with wheels and a handle to pull on. It stood right between them.
Zoey was just as confused as Taregan. I don't know, thought Zoey
“What were you going to do?” he asked. “Bring a party dress? I don't think so.” He leaned toward her with one eyebrow raised and the other cocked low. He whispered into her ear, “You have quite the imagination, young lady.” Then he winked. “And orange? I like your style. It's my favorite color.”
“Okay, moving on,” Taregan said, all business again.
As the crane gestured Zoey to follow him, she glanced toward the suitcase and saw—nothing!
“Where's the suitcase?” she cried out.
“Suitcase?” Taregan replied. “What suitcase?”
“The one that...”
His laughter interrupted her and he slapped his white feathery hip with his wing. “I got you!” he smiled. His smile was infectious, but his humor was lousy, which made Zoey smile even that much more. It eased her nerves. She suddenly liked this Taregan fellow.
“The suitcase disappeared once you took your eyes off of it. Like I said,” his tone became serious again, and his voice low, “you have quite the imagination. And in Spruce Hollow, imagination creates things almost instantly.”
“It does?”
“Well, sometimes. Depending upon who you are, you know?”
“Well…but…how do you...”
Before she could finish, Taregan spread his wings out and spoke in a loud voice.
“Let me have your attention, please!”
Birds of all kinds shuffled out of their rooms and stooped on the railings. The birds that were gathered in front of her stopped chattering, turning to look at Taregan. They were wide-eyed in wonder, curious about the newcomer.
“I have a new student!” Taregan shouted. “Treat her with respect, which I know you'll do. Treat her with patience, which I know you'll do. And treat her with love, which I know you'll do. So, thank you for doing what I know you'll do!”
For a moment the Spruce Hollow was silent, then a roar of applause erupted, nearly toppling Zoey over.
One of the birds, a female cardinal with mostly brown feathers, red accents, and a sharp red crest, flew from one of the middle levels, landing right next to Taregan and Zoey.
She pecked lightly at Taregan's tail feathers. “Me, me, me, me,” she sang. By then, several other birds were landing beside her, trying to catch a closer glimpse at the newbie.
Taregan feigned irritation. “Yes, San? What's this, me, me, me, me about?”
She tilted her head, pulling on his wing feathers with her beak. “You know,” she said, rolling her eyes.
“Yes, she can, but first I have to ask her a question.” He turned to Zoey and smartly asked, “What's your favorite number?”
Uncomfortable being put on the spot, for a moment Zoey’s favorite number slipped her mind, but closing her eyes tightly for some reason brought the number from the depths of forgetfulness to the front of her brain.
“My favorite number? My favorite number is 3.”
He then asked San, “Is your favorite number 3 as well?”
She slowly shook her head, and with wide puppy-dog eyes she said, “No, it's 1.”
“Okay, okay, okay.” Taregan looked thoughtful for a moment, resting his chin on his wing, trying to hide a smile.
“You two...” he said, pointing at San, shaking his wing back and forth a couple of times, “can room together, but only if Zoey agrees.”
San broke into a huge smile and shook her head up and down toward Zoey. “Say yes. Say yes.”
Zoey, seeing the excitem
ent in San's face, said, “Yes.”
“Zoey, you're on the ninth floor, in room eighteen with San.”
“Yeah!” cheered San, lifting off and flying toward the ninth balcony. “Follow me, Zoey!”
Zoey looked at Taregan. He calmly nodded to her and said, “Time to fly.”
She jumped up and flapped her wings, zooming past balcony after balcony, until she landed on the railing next to San.
“Are you ready to see your new room?”
“Sure,” said Zoey. By now, Zoey was more and more curious about this place. San, for one, was very nice for picking her as a roommate. She wasn't used to being picked for much of anything, especially by her brother. He always left her out of any game he and his friends played. He never wanted her to sleep in his room either, even though it was both of theirs and she had no other choice. For some reason, he always claimed it as his own. And to top it off, he always did his best to walk as far as possible from her on their way to school in the mornings. Zoey wondered why she was never good enough in his eyes.
San hopped off the railing, taking Zoey away from her thoughts, and landed in front of a door that had a gold 18 engraved on it. Pulling the latch with her beak, San opened the door, beckoning for Zoey to come in.
The room was simple and small, but roomy enough for the both of them. The room was shaped like a crescent moon, with a nest of feathers on the left and the same type of nest on the right. Zoey guessed that the nest on the right was San's. There were feathers thrown about.
San smiled her big smile. “Are you ready for the Art of Defense training tomorrow?”
“I don't know,” replied Zoey. She didn't. She didn't even know what it was.
San threw up her wings, high toward the ceiling. The ceiling was tall. It looked to be about ten feet up, which was quite high compared to the size of their bodies. “Well, I'm excited!” cried San.
Is she ever not excited? wondered Zoey. Why was the Art of Defense so exciting in the first place? Zoey began to feel a little apprehensive. She didn't like not knowing what was going to happen. “What do we do in training?”
“First, let's see who you're training with tomorrow.” San hopped to the middle of the room and said, “Sacred tablet.” A tablet, like the one Zoey had seen downstairs, rose from the wood floor in the middle of the room. “What's Zoey's training schedule tomorrow?” she asked.
The tablet radiated a green light that shot vertically, much like the tablet on the main floor. San waived Zoey over, pointing with her longest wing feather at the words: “The Art of Defense” with Kaya.
“Wow,” replied San. “We're in the same training!”
“What's the Art of Defense?” asked Zoey.
The tablet disappeared back into the floor.
“The Art of Defense has something to do with defending yourself. I'm not exactly sure about it. It's not like you're actually learning how to hurt anyone or anything like that. Well,” she paused, looking down in deep thought, “I guess you could get hurt, but it doesn't matter. They'll teach you how not to get hurt when the Dims attack. You'll also learn how to not hurt them, you know, when you throw them across the meadow.”
“Oh,” yawned Zoey. Her body was tired all over from all the stress and mayhem she'd been through recently. She wanted to lay her head down, but wasn’t sure if that's what she was supposed to do.
San focused on a crack midway up the wall directly opposite from the door. “Open,” she muttered, and just like that, the crack slowly opened into a perfect circle. The night air drifted in and Zoey was able to see the evening sky in the east.
“The breeze is nice,” San exclaimed.
Zoey yawned once more. “Yeah, but I'm tired.”
San pointed to the nest where Zoey was to sleep. “You'll like those feathers. They're so soft and perfect for sleeping.”
“Is it okay if I go to sleep now?” Zoey asked, as she collapsed into the feathery bed.
San looked disappointed, as if she wanted to keep talking all night, but Zoey couldn’t wait for a response. She closed her eyes in what she thought was a blink, but her heavy eyelids remained shut and she drifted off into a dream.
∞
Zoey opened her eyes to see a wolf's gray paws and legs standing on thick snow. She was lying on her stomach, on the frigid ground. A chill went up and down her spine. She exhaled a puff of steam. Wherever she was, it was cold.
Placing a wing on the ground, she pushed herself up, into a sitting position. Where am I? She glanced at the wolf. It was Lao, his violet crystals beaming brightly as he stood before her. A thin strand of trees encircled them and the sky above was almost as gray as his fur.
“Can we talk?” he asked.
“I guess.” Zoey looked around, finding nothing that looked familiar to her. “Where are we?”
Lao looked around. “I don't know. I've not been in this forest before.” The air around his body suddenly sparkled with bright white lights, then faded a moment later. That's just like Nova, thought Zoey.
Zoey smiled, feeling the tranquil, gentle energy. She spread her wings to stretch, and as she did she felt the earth under her feet momentarily shake. She eyed Lao. He dipped his head, “Don't be afraid, Zoey. Remain calm. Crepus knows we're here.”
Zoey’s stomach fluttered nervously. “What do we do?”
He sat on his hind legs. “We talk.”
The earth shook again, this time more fiercely, and Zoey barely kept her balance. Her body, however, felt a sudden panic. She wanted to get out of this place.
She spread her wings, flapping them hard, lifting herself into the air. She glanced upward, spotting a branch she could land on a few yards away.
Lao saw her panic and blew softly in her direction, instantly steadying her nerves. She peered down at him and landed back on the ground. “How do you do that?”
“Do what, Zoey?”
“Make me feel so calm all over.”
“It's the calmness inside of me that you feel. When you feel my calm energy, it reminds you of who you truly are. Who we all are. It helps you to find your inner peace.”
“But,” replied Zoey, “how did you not freak out when the earth shook? I mean, really, how do you do that?”
“I do it by letting things take their course. It's a practice, a discipline, and a remembrance. This allows me to remain composed in any situation.”
“Remembrance? What are you remembering?”
Lao sat down on his haunches. “I'm about to give you a lot of information. I'll be planting a seed in your mind. The seed will eventually grow. Once it grows, then and only then, will it make sense to you. Are you ready for this?”
Zoey nodded tentatively. She wasn't entirely sure about getting information from this gray wolf. It's still strange, though, how he felt so familiar.
“Okay,” continued Lao. “I remember self-control. If something in my life goes awry, then self-control stops my negative emotions from taking over. If I were to allow my negative emotions to take over, then I'd react with fear, disrupting the fabric of the flow, and I don't want to live my life living in fear. Instead of emotionally reacting to the things I fear, I take a deep breath in that moment when I am afraid. This makes me stop, allowing me to feel what's truly happening in the moment before I react. To negatively react changes what's truly happening to me—makes it worse. It forces me to repeat the lesson of fear until I learn not to repeat it. Does that make sense, Zoey?”
Zoey shook her head no. Lao dipped his head. “When you emotionally react to a situation, you tend to blame your reaction on something or someone else. When in truth, it's you who created your own reaction, your own feeling, and your own disharmony. You're the only one who makes you feel afraid, happy, or angry. No one else does that for you. Do you understand?”
Zoey slowly shook her head again in disagreement. “My brother can make me mad. He does that all the time.”
Lao saw that Zoey was doing her best to comprehend. “In a way, that is true. However, does he
go inside your mind and tell you to be mad or be sad or, better yet, be happy?”
Zoey chortled. “No way, that's impossible.”
“Then, Zoey, is it you who goes inside your mind to make you feel a certain feeling?”
Zoey thought for a moment, remembering a time when her brother insulted her. She was happy the moment before her brother insulted her, but not after. Lao can't be right about this, she concluded. “I don’t think so. One time I was happy before my brother made fun of me in front of his friends and then I was mad and sad after he did that. So, he made me feel that way.”
“Let's look at it another way, okay?” Lao moved closer to Zoey and spoke calmly. “When you're with your brother and he's playing a game by himself, does he get mad when you want to play with him?”
Zoey nodded an emphatic yes. “He never wants to play with me. When I sit down and play with him, he always gets angry. Then we get in a yelling fight.” Zoey paused, and her wings slouched. Her voice became soft, mumbling. “I bug him, I guess.”
“And, did you make him angry and make him yell at you?”
“I don't think so.”
“When you yelled back at him, did he go inside your body, control your mouth and make you yell back at him?” asked Lao.
Zoey laughed, “No, he can't get into my body and move my mouth.”
“Would you then agree that you didn't control his body, his mind, or his emotions either?” Lao's voice was calm.
Zoey put her wing to her beak, deep in thought. “I don't go in anyone's body and control things.”
“If that's the case and if that's the case for most healthy beings, then would you say that he didn't make you say, think, or feel something? And that you were the one who said, thought, and felt it?”
“I guess so.”
Lao raised her beak with his paw to look into her eyes. His blue eyes imbued a deep stillness around her. He spoke again.
“Right. It’s up to me how I react to things, and the same is true for each of us. Taking a deep breath allows me to remember this. Then I can remember another discipline. The discipline of the flow. I've disciplined myself to go with the flow of life, no matter what happens. I accept it just as it is. If someone insults me, I continue to go with the flow of life, not being bothered by the insult. I have a life to live. If I stop and pay attention to the insult, analyze it, and dissect it to see if it's true or not, then I've interrupted the flow, causing harm to my mental and emotional state of being. I'd get angry or sad, causing myself stress.” He paused, blinking. “Going with the flow is the greatest aspect of all. In this, I know nothing can harm me. Everything drips off of me like rain.”
The PureLights of Ohm Totem Page 12