Marco and Addy did not like their bodies. Both carried too many scars from the war. Addy was still branded on her hip, a mark that shamed her. She still thought she was overweight. Marco still felt too short. Both carried insecurities like yokes. Yet the baba forced them to confront, to accept every part of them.
"Breathe into your toes. Breathe into your abdomen. Let the breath flow through you, healing, filling you."
Finally after two weeks, they could bring the entire body into awareness, feeling every sensation—the sunrays upon them, the cobblestones beneath them, the feel of their robes against skin. Marco had never really spared his body much thought, but for two weeks, he lay here, still, exploring every part with only his awareness. By the end, he could feel the oxygen flow into his bloodstream, could feel that oxygen flowing to every part he focused on, could move his consciousness across his body. Healing. Feeling. Exploring. Soothing. Accepting.
It was hard work. Often his mind was a storm, filled with anxiety, anger, pain. He raged against the generals and leaders who had failed his planet. He raged against the aliens who had butchered so many. He mourned the fallen. Often his mind could not be silenced. Breath after breath, he struggled to focus. To bring his awareness to his body, his breath, his deeper consciousness. It was an act of such concentration that usually he failed, yet he kept trying. It was a war within himself. He had often believed that meditation was simply closing your eyes and relaxing; it was anything but. Not for him. Not for a mind broken and scarred and lost at storming sea. On the outside, perhaps, he seemed to the world to be relaxing. On the inside he fought for every breath, and he battled every cloud of thought. A war fought not with guns but with kindness, with forgiveness, with acceptance.
For another week, they practiced yoga upon the mountaintop. Moving slowly. Stretching. Tilting. Straightening. A languid dance from dawn to midnight. They explored how consciousness could affect their muscles. They learned every joint, every creak, every fluid movement. Nothing but awareness of the body.
"Breathe and move and let be," the baba said. "Accept all parts of your body. Your flaws as well as your strengths. Do not judge. Breathe. Move. Let it be. If thoughts arise, observe them with friendly curiosity, even if they are painful. Let them be. They will float away. Move. Dance. Become one with everything. Be aware."
Every night, Marco and Addy retired to their chamber, an austere room with no furniture, only a single blanket on the floor. Every night, they made love and then slept entwined, warming each other.
After several weeks of practice, Marco noticed something.
He no longer suffered nightmares.
For the past decade, ever since boot camp, he had not slept straight through the night. Every night for ten years, he would wake up once, twice, sometimes many times, drenched in sweat, clawing at his blankets. The dream was always the same: he was trapped in tunnels, seeking a way out. Sometimes the tunnels were a scum hive. Sometimes they were the bowels of a great starship. Sometimes the underground streets of Haven. He always felt lost, trapped, desperate to find his way home, creatures chasing him in the darkness.
The first time he had slept the night through, he woke up surprised at how refreshed he felt. The baba only gave them four, sometimes five hours most nights, which Marco had thought cruel, a torture of sleep deprivation. It reminded him of the sleep deprivation at boot camp. But surprisingly, these brief nights filled him with deep relaxation. Addy too slept soundly. She had always kicked, even screamed in her sleep, trapped in her own nightmares. Those nightmares faded here.
"We let the bad memories be," Marco whispered before bed one night, holding Addy in his arms.
She nodded. "We do not suppress them or banish them."
"We accept them," Addy whispered.
"We let them be," Marco said.
"We let them flow away."
"We forgive ourselves," Marco whispered. "We are not our memories. We are not our thoughts. The past is only an illusion."
"The only thing that is real is the now," Addy said.
They slept—deeply, kindly, a sleep of healing and forgiveness.
After two months of their studies, Baba Mahanisha announced a new noble truth they must learn.
"We have learned that we are not our thoughts," he said. "We have learned to bring awareness to our breath, to our bodies, to the cosmos. We have learned to observe as beings of pure consciousness. We have learned that the past and future are but illusions, that only the present is real. Today we will begin to learn kindness."
"I'm already kind!" Addy said. "I'm a ray of sunshine."
"Addy," Marco said, "just this morning, you were twisting my arm and punching me in the ribs."
She placed her hands on her hips. "You deserved it. You ate my last piece of fruit."
Marco groaned. "You offered it to me!"
"Yeah, well, you're supposed to say no thank you, here, have my porridge." Addy rolled her eyes.
"Come, my pupils," the baba said, smiling. "To the courtyard. Let us chant."
Chanting? That was new. They had never chanted during meditations before. They made their way into the sunlit courtyard, and they sat cross-legged on the cobblestones. The trees rustled around them, birds sang, and they took several healing breaths, awakening their awareness.
"Repeat with me," said Baba Mahanisha, and his voice was soft and kind. "May I be safe and free from suffering."
"May I be safe and free from suffering," Marco and Addy repeated.
"May I know peace," said the baba.
They repeated the words, softer now. "May I know peace."
"May I have ease of being," said the baba.
"May I have ease of being," Marco and Addy repeated.
Marco felt a little silly repeating these words. It all felt too New Agey to him, too sappy. He had fought in two wars, had seen so many die, had suffered and survived. He had found merit in the silent meditations, but this felt childish.
Yet when he looked at Addy, Marco saw tears in her eyes. She reached out and took his hand, breaking protocol.
"I love you, Poet," she whispered.
"I love you too, Ads," he said, squeezing her hand.
They repeated the mantra all day. Forgiving themselves.
I forgive myself for hurting Anisha and the other women of Haven, he thought.
I forgive myself for killing in the war, he thought.
I forgive myself for neglecting Tomiko, for driving her away, he thought.
I forgive myself for being imperfect. For being flawed. For sometimes being cruel.
He took deep breath by deep breath.
I am sorry.
"May I be safe and free from suffering," they chanted. "May I know peace. May I have ease of being."
Marco added his own words to the chant, whispering them so softly the others could not hear.
"May I be forgiven."
The next day, the baba asked them to think of another person, one they loved.
"I choose you, Addy," Marco said, taking her hands.
"Oh, I, um . . ." Addy bit her lip. "I choose you too." She sighed. "I was going to choose the Pillowman, but fine! You're so needy, Marco."
They held hands, looking into each other's eyes, and chanted.
"May you be safe and free from suffering," they said to each other. "May you know peace. May you have ease of being."
Safety. Freedom from suffering. Peace. Yet what of the other things Marco wanted?
"Why not ask for health?" he asked the baba.
"Why not ask for riches?" Addy said.
"Health may come and go," said the baba. "We cannot always control it. Wealth too. Health and riches are as ephemeral as the mandala of sand. Yet do the ill, the poor not deserve peace and ease of being? The winds come and go. They may bring you tragedy: illness, war, the loss of loved ones. They may bring you prosperity one day, take it away the next. You cannot control the wind. But you can adjust your sails. May you be safe and free from suffering. May you know
peace. May you have ease of being."
"How can we find safety in a world of danger?" Marco asked.
"You cannot always," said the baba. "Sometimes you must simply ride out the storm. We do not wish to fight the wind, merely to bend and let it blow over us. To know peace. To have ease of being."
On the third day, the baba asked them to think of somebody who had wronged them. Somebody difficult in their lives. Somebody they might even consider an enemy.
"I'll think of Marco," Addy said.
"Hey!" Marco said.
"Well, you keep stealing my blanket at night."
He rolled his eyes. "Addy!"
She groaned. "Fine, fine, I'll think of somebody else."
"Not the Pillowman!" Marco said.
"But—" Addy sighed and crossed her arms. "Fine!"
To choose an enemy? Marco had no shortage of those. There had been Pinky, of course. And Captain Coleen Petty. And the Never War movement that had tried to arrest him. And worse enemies: the scum, the marauders, and the grays. Who to choose?
"Are you ready?" the baba asked.
Marco nodded, settling on imagining a random scum, one among countless centipedes he had fought a decade ago.
"Now," said the baba, "direct your blessings to your enemy. May you be safe and free from suffering."
Addy gasped. "Wait. What?" She growled. "I thought of a marauder! I'm not wishing that fucking thing safety or freedom from suffering. I want it to suffer!"
The baba nodded. "I know, my pupil. This meditation is often difficult. But please, even if you do not feel it within you, repeat the words with me. Even if it's hard. Try. Try to send these blessings to your enemy." He inhaled deeply. "May you be safe and free from suffering."
"May you be safe and free from suffering," Marco and Addy said together, having to force the words between stiff lips.
Marco didn't mean it. The words tasted of lies. He thought of the scum. The creatures that had killed his mother and most of his friends. How could he wish them anything but suffering?
"May you know peace," said the baba.
"May you know peace," Marco said, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.
"May you know—ugh!" Addy groaned. "Do I have to?"
The baba nodded. "If you wish to learn this noble truth, you do."
Addy groaned and stamped her feet. "Fine! May you know peace, marauder." She shuddered.
"May you have ease of being," said the baba.
"May you have ease of being," Marco said, directing the thought to the scum, not truly meaning it.
"May you have ease of—" Addy stopped. "No." She crossed her arms. "No. Fuck no! Do you hear me, Baba? I won't do it! I won't wish the marauders ease of being, or peace, or freedom from suffering, or anything like that. Fuck them!" Her eyes burned. "They captured me. Enslaved me. Branded me." She pulled up her robe, exposing the brand on her hip. "They murdered millions of humans. They tortured me. And I won't wish them well. Do you hear me, Baba? I won't! What do you know of suffering, of pain? Would you wish well to somebody who hurt you, who tortured you?"
Tears were flowing down her cheeks. Marco rushed toward her and embraced her.
The baba looked at Addy, eyes sad. "You feel pain. You suffer. That is good."
"How is that fucking good?" Addy shouted, struggling to free herself from Marco's embrace. He held on, terrified that she would attack the guru.
Baba Mahanisha lowered his head. "I too was tortured, my pupil. The Taolians had placed me in chains. Whipped me. Scarred me. I still wear the scars on my back, still feel the pain. For many years, I was angry. I wanted revenge. Yet that brought me only more pain, more suffering. Hatred is like drinking poison and hoping your enemy dies. My own hatred poisoned my soul. Only when I forgave my enemies, when I wished peace to my torturers, did my internal torture end."
Addy relaxed in Marco's embrace. "It's hard," she whispered. "I can't truly forgive them. Not ever. I can't wish them well. They don't deserve peace! They don't deserve happiness."
"Perhaps not," said the baba. "But you do. And so long as hatred fills you, true happiness will evade you. Only once you wish well to all living beings, even those who had wronged you, will you find your own ease of being. I do not ask you to wish happiness to your enemies for their sake. It is for your sake, my pupil. I want your soul to be pure, filled with love for all, not twisted with bitterness or hatred. Only thus will it find true joy."
"Maybe true joy is a luxury for the naive," Addy said. "For those who never saw evil. I saw evil. I suffered evil. I can't just sing 'Kumbaya' and pretend that everyone is good and happy and riding unicorns through fields of cupcakes. The cosmos doesn't work that way. You're asking me to be delusional! To bury my head in the sand! Maybe I prefer the hard truth to the happy illusion."
The baba stepped toward her. He raised one of his trunks and wiped away her tears. "I do not ask for delusion, my child. Only for clarity of thought. Yes, there is evil. Yes, there is suffering. I do not ask you to pretend otherwise. I ask you to extend well-wishes and kindness to all living things. Even those things that are evil, cruel, and wicked."
But Addy just raised her chin and clenched her fists. "I don't believe in loving my enemy. I believe in destroying my enemy. If that means there is poison inside me, well, then I am poisoned."
She spun on her heel and marched away.
Marco stood for a moment, still, not sure whether to remain with the baba in the courtyard or rush after Addy.
The baba placed a trunk on his shoulder.
"This meditation is often the hardest for those who suffered greatly," the baba said softly. "It is normal for her to march away. It is not unexpected. Go to her, my pupil. She needs your love more than ever."
Marco nodded. "Thank you, Baba."
He turned and chased Addy.
She was walking down the mountainside, fists clenched at her sides. She ignored Marco's call, and with her long legs, she easily kept ahead of him. He hurried in pursuit, barely keeping up.
"Addy, come on!" he cried, hurrying after her. "Will you wait up?"
She ignored him.
They hiked the entire way, several kilometers, back toward the ruined city. The Thunder Road, their small starship, stood among the ruins. Dust coated the flowers and peace signs painted onto its hull and wings. Addy stepped into the Volkswagen, never looking back at Marco.
Winded, he entered the ship after her.
"Addy." He spoke softly. "Do you want to talk about it?"
She stood with her back to him. She stared at the wall. Her fists were clenched at her sides. Her crimson Deep Being robes lay on the floor; she stood in her underwear. They had no more spare clothes aboard. They had lost almost everything when the gray had opened the airlock in space. Only the bed, the stove, the katana, and the fridge remained. The books, the games, their clothes—all had been lost to space.
Marco took a step closer to her. Still Addy wouldn't turn toward him.
"Addy?" He placed a hand on her shoulder.
She spun toward him, snarling, and grabbed him—painfully. Her fingernails dug into his skin. He recoiled, but she wouldn't release him. Her face was a mask of fury, and her eyes were red and damp.
He opened his mouth to speak again, and Addy kissed him, surprising him, taking his breath away.
"Add—" he managed before she pulled him onto the bed.
They made desperate love. Back in the temple, with the baba sleeping next door, they had been quiet, reserved, their sex like meditation, all slow and mindful movements. Now Addy was like a wild beast, shouting in her passion, and her fingernails tore his skin and drew blood. This was sex like a battle, animalistic, raw and primal, and she screamed so loudly Marco thought that even atop the mountain the baba could hear.
When it was over, Marco lay on his back, and Addy sat at the edge of the bed, smoking a cigarette. It was the first cigarette she had smoked since climbing the mountain two months ago.
And finally Addy spoke.<
br />
"I can't do this, Poet."
He pulled on his boxer shorts and sat at her side. He placed a hand on her thigh.
"Are you sure, Ads? You've been doing so well. For two months now, you've been acing this."
She placed her hand atop his. "He wants us to love the marauders, Poet. And the scum. And all those enemies. I can't do that." She shook her head. "I can't. I never will." She stared into his eyes. "That's not who I am. I'm a warrior. They made me a warrior. When they hurt me, branded me, tortured me, they made me who I am."
Marco spoke in a whisper. "Maybe you can change. Maybe the baba can help."
She shook her head. "I don't want to end up like him, Poet. The last survivor of a civilization, alone on a mountain. And if the grays attack Earth? I'll fight them." She wiped her eyes and nodded. "I'll fight them, and I'll hate them."
Marco nodded. He held her hands tightly. "I will too. Always. I'll always fight at your side. It still hurts me—every day—that I wasn't there with you. During the marauder war. That the enemy captured you, and that I wasn't at your side that year. I'll never let you go again, Addy. No matter what happens, I'll fight with you. I would follow you to Hell and back. You know that, right?"
"I know." She hugged him. "I know, Poet."
They sat for a long time on the bed, embraced.
"So what say we go back up that mountain and lie." Marco winked. "We'll say the words. Just to get a passing grade. Then keep going with the training."
Addy gasped. Her eyes widened. "You cheater!"
He grinned. "You're one to talk. You always cheated on exams at school."
"I did not! I just copied from you, and you didn't cheat, so it was fair and square." She sighed and lit another cigarette. "Do you really think we should? I'm pissed off at that elephant, Poet. Maybe I'll always be pissed off, and anger will always be a part of me. Maybe I just suck at this."
Earth Honor (Earthrise Book 8) Page 11