Natural Synchronicity
Leonard Edwards
© 2026 Leonard Edwards
All rights reserved.
This is a work of fiction. Characters, places, and events are imagined. Any resemblance to real people, or to actual events or locations, is coincidental.
Original text finalised in 2016.
Edited and republished in 2026.
No artificial intelligence tools were used in the writing of this manuscript.
To the Summit Beyond
Table of Contents
Just Enough - Iona’s Notes on Balance
Infinite Terrain
Everyone lives happily ever after.
Before that happens, there is a journey which starts with a single step, that creates a sound, and leaves a footprint with five toes.
In the beginning was the pure potential of information, and it knew everything. Information was not a realm, nor a dimension but an essence with the power to manifest substance. The mysterious bridge of redemption between species, bridging different languages and dialects, beyond tones, gestures and even words; an ever-present adversary of prejudice.
Truth is stranger than fiction! Fiction really alludes to a deeper fiction. The fiction of the apparent. The fictitious canvas is just the clay mould; the dramatic stage where the vast and unfathomable truths of the void play out in mysterious sequences of synchronicity. The non-local awareness or absolute consciousness with which we truly identify can be denied by us, but will never deny us, as it has breathed our being from its innate fabric. The Latin terms fictionem - “a fashioning or feigning”, fictilus - “made of clay, earthen” and fingere - “to shape, form, devise, feign”... have not lost their nuances, and corroborate well with the ethereal wave-form structure of being.
Let us meander together with friends, Iona and Koan, to discover what has been lost in the telling, unravel the imaginary lines between geographical areas, and traverse the fine line between fiction and non-fiction. Fleeting ideas playing out on the surface of the pond evanescent as dragonflies darting in and out of lotus leaves in the evening sun.
Ideas or mental formations are no more than that.
Mere fictions, conceptions and opinions - ultimately illusory.
Mental conclusions and definitive prejudices - like phantoms in a dream.
Words and concepts really only define the impression.
Well beyond the idea, source information maintains universal equanimity and is the ground of being.
The fantastic irony of the information plateau is that it dwells in the dazzling void.
A sacred, neutral Dreamtime; unquantifiable - by any measure!
Sure - “high society” may try to lock information away in exclusive treasure chests, but they might as well lock up the wind. The free-flow of pure information is as natural as the air moving through leaves, as inevitable as the breeze. Collective redemption is inevitable because Natural law governs all things. The theory is this is not a drill. Simply living denotes transcendence beyond any guise and every manifestation.
Like the illusion of miscommunication between two different languages, clearly voided with a smile or a gift - so it is with the illusion of duality - the appearance of separation between different people. Suffice it to say Iona and Koan are like everyone else, in the same boat, on the same ocean and the experiences they share, far and away dwarf the differences.
The magic irony is that differences point to quintessential unity in every direction. The space that is created is a unity of diversity and to over- categorise either way is to miss the point entirely. This paradoxical mystery remains triumphant and is the pinnacle of wonder and delight.
In the context of Koan and Iona’s story, non duality is an anti-thesis of loneliness, an antidote to the illusion of separateness. In a natural quantum amphitheatre any perception of separateness misses the reality of such-ness. It involves more than one star to shine, more than one hand to clap. It takes more than one thread to weave, more than one stone to carve. Great Spirit, have mercy, home is so much more than a box in a city of cubes.
It could be said that Great Spirit is a congregation of us. It could be said that Source Being constructed us, or that we created the story about it to explain ourselves. Metaphysics could suggest that Source Being assembled us or that we are an assembly of Source Essence.
Anything could be said, and might even be remembered, if it was carved into the clay. Like a water ripple it was once formless and would inevitably fade away. The leaf drops into the pond and the universe expands, precursor of a void contract.
Preface
This narrative presents transcendence from attachment to ideas.
In testament to the integrity of human consciousness and creation.
The intention is to honour the pathless place beyond concepts, with respect to the all pervading energy that transcends classification, beyond all this and that conjecture, free from the burden of dualistic referencing.
Our story is represented by two characters, Iona and Koan.
There’s Iona’s take on true reality and the flowing wilderness, alongside Koan’s opinion of actual freedom and universal flux.
As fiction would have it, a narrative voice pervades the space between.
The character of space personifying.
Characterising spaciousness.
Our stories merge in this dance of the unknown.
Prologue - Soundscape
There is a vast ancient place, a tremendous timeless space, that Koan and Iona share. A natural rainforest clearing ageless, ever present. Effervescent cascades of dappled light rain through. In this incomprehensible realm of mystery they feel indefinably free. In peaceful surrounds, void of any worry, they can just be - and simply be free. An effortless space of quietude, engulfed by the wonder and joy of being.
Set far afield from the lonely city, a portal of indescribable ecological diversity and fascination, a ticket to timelessness beyond selective understanding. A neutral space, open to all who choose to visit, a place of peace, a location where forgiveness and compassion pre-empt all things.
It is Koan and Iona’s favourite space; gem riddled, branch furnished, dirt lined, leaf décor surrounds. An enigmatic atmosphere and a treasure untold. Introduced to them by an anonymous friend, who has long since passed beyond, through the illusion of sapphire skies into never ending wondrousness.
Entwined in vine around a giant steadfast old tree which Koan and Iona like to sit beneath, hangs a rough hewn stone carved with the words;
We dwell in an amphitheatre of quantum flux.
We belong to this metaphysical symphony of being.
There is nothing as conclusive as true love.
This space is based on freedom.
This place stands on a truth paradigm
and represents collective redemption.
Céad Míle Fáilte
A hundred thousand welcomes
A Path with Heart
Koan and Iona are travellers from beyond, who like itinerant sadhus, will wander on and on. They share this journey beyond hallways of illusion, to integral unity consciousness.
Iona’s sure of one thing, she’s definitely one of the characters. It doesn’t matter exactly which one. People simply like to give things matter, perhaps to clarify that they matter, sure.
Koan’s sure of one thing. That exclusivity is not the way of the Earth and Skies, that there’s no such thing as one separate beat, within the myriad manifestations of the collective heart.
Freedom reigns; it is the case that freedom reigns, in the symphony of wind in trees and simplicity of breeze in leaves.
Iona and Koan are reflections of a reality that morphs beyond relativity. Dancers in a lightning storm, they’re both intrinsically, yet somehow inexplicably, knitted into the fabric. Part of a story that breathes itself, wanderers of a pathless land.
Since no-time immemorial, and throughout non-time ever-present, their elders have negotiated the dream trail, the vagrant track. Steadfast and resolute, their respective cultures have maintained the magic of the path with heart that leads through the pathless land.
Wayfarers whose tracks wove through impassable places to take them far, a long way toward forever. From age old days, they’ve known the way as sacred, as though they’ve shared the secret whispers of stellar patterns in ancient skies.
In journeys of a long time past, magic crafts were carved to meet with far off lands beyond distant expanses of land and sea. It is told the nomadic travellers didn’t distinguish themselves from their journeys, nor the places they journeyed. That was the way of things, and thus, their way with things. Those things were their worlds awakening. These awakenings, the treasures time keeps safe.
Their legacies are remembered in the ether of Akasha – the all-pervasive. These high mountains know who once they carried. ‘What of those days, never forgotten,’ chant bright red tulips through sun-drenched fields and plains. The legacy is the way we do things. That is what we fight for daily.
Iona and Koan’s people lived among the riddling cyclic seasons, and knew well the grooves and tunes of nature’s waves, her airs and graces. Wove myriad prayers and charms from the holy places and worshipped with want- not hands and want-less paces.
Koan and Iona know the rhythms of nature as well as they know themselves. It’s as though they are part of the never constant flux, the ever present ebb and flow. Whatever natural fluctuation of weather and environment, they adapt with synchronicity to the experiential journey. Marvelling at the starry luminescence they pace steadily through the cosmos, lined with jade rocks and solstice horizons.
A distinct metaphorical structure appears before them, two solid totems reaching into the sky. Space blue lapis lazuli pillars reveal faint markings or carvings. Traced by the light of moons gone by, etched over by the passage of ages. Atop the totems, two great rocks sit shining splendidly, one of them diamond, the other one, gold. Iona and Koan stride calmly through this zenith gate, passing happily beyond this ancient allegorical structure.
A crop rich, sun drenched plateau beckons, kaleidoscopically scattered with flowers. The tune of river water abounds, and Iona and Koan are fascinated by the waves of river-stone mosaic. A full spectrum span of multi-textured meadows points to a transcendent nature, cultivating a wave of bliss divine within the iridescent mind.
Neither could determine how far they’d trekked to get here, through how many sunrises and sets; all they both knew now was that they’d traversed everything and the void - to reach an emotional spectrum beyond the trial of days gone by.
Suffice it to say neither knew what was next. Neither knew what the universe had chartered - it remained uncharted. They’ve arrived with certainty and in chorus at a place where happiness is its own content. Who knows how long it is they stay here, partially conscious of the river immemorial, let alone the ocean universal. Marvelling at the meadow’s colour rich vibrancy. Merging with essential space and a natural symphonic chorus which ranges far beyond the electromagnetic spectrum.
Cognition of time just fades away
Even the way does not lead to forever
Forever is an illusion in the way
Nowhere is somewhere on the wayIona
Truth is a pathless place.
The anomaly is that the heart
Crosses the bridge forever.
There are no welcomes and no farewells.
There is nothing but for
Freedom.
Iona
Iona is a reluctant ‘Westerner’ with a quantum soul, and centuries of ‘Eastern’ metaphysical principles imbued in her character. She comes from a long line of Celtic warriors – of truth and the heart. Tired of the modern trend of general philosophical hypocrisy, Iona’s heart is set far beyond the typical Babylonian traditions that haunt these windswept and weather beaten shores. Somewhere there must be a level of free will opportunity that can reflect her Zen paradigm, a group of people out there that actualise compassionate living, without a class hierarchy, nor barriers of any form at all.
Iona sits idly in a spacious garden contemplating the breathless vastness of the horizon and nature’s all encompassing mystique. She sketches random patterns on a drawing pad as stars sketch patterns in the sky.Iona
A circle consists of one line. A cross is made up by two. A four sided square requires two or three lines. One perfect right angle, or two. A two or three line triangle is a diagram for a basic musical instrument.
Iona recollects the dual ideas that pure mathematics involves pattern finding, and that nature transcends lines entirely. Nature is Mandelbrot + Fibonacci spirals and grand patterns beyond kaleidoscopic spectrums. Nature is wall to wall with spinning particles and kindred spirits all sharing space graciously. Iona’s quite happy to throw her lot in with Nature and follow her to the ends of the Earth.
She heard a song somewhere with the lyric, ‘Each new hour offers new chances for new beginnings. The horizon leans forward offering you space to place new steps of change.’
An asterisk is a multiplication cross upon a plus. Triangles in a flower pattern around an asterisk make for a group of teepees around a fire under the vast wonder of the great sky that blankets the desert plains. Humans once traced the divine in plasma shapes on cave walls. Iona wonders if they knew where it might take them.
‘It’s always been about wandering,’ Iona muses. ‘Novel concept,’ she grins, though that’s one of her preferred go-to lines. ‘It’s an idea,’ she thinks, then carries on, whistling titles of songs.
With the backdrop of the vast incomprehensible cosmos, the entire rhythm section is the mind. Words are about impressions and guitars are about rhythm. Words shape weather and landscape possibility. Guitars sing of spatial freedom and conceptual range. Words and guitars are about venturing beyond and embracing soul.
Linguistic gymnastics, meter and rhyme, the whole thing rides on the ring of a dime. Slide chords and strumming in time, Iona doesn’t know the next line but right now things are fine. Some times and some places she can’t lean on a guitar or hear the evening light up with a ballad. In those vacant spaces the primal awareness of immeasurable nature is all that remains.
Every morning Iona visualises, “Today, a natural abundance paradigm will mushroom spontaneously across the realm, locally and non-locally, rippling through puddles, ponds and lakes of consciousness. The currency divide between ‘East,’ ‘West,’ Oceania and the Third World will melt like a chocolate factory imploding in a power meltdown on midsummer’s eve........ And now here’s the sun with the weather.”
It’s sentiment like this that keeps Iona going, keeps her hoping.
Koan
Koan’s homeland is the “undiscovered”. To the ‘East’ lie the ancient lands, citadels of community spirit in the world of Celestia. From the ‘West,’ the neo feudal fascist debt kingdom sprawls across the realm. Then there is the 3rd World, which makes up the rest of it, and forms the majority.
Koan’s been walkabout for a few years now, getting by on a wing and a prayer. He was never interested in their roulette-table life, and neither were the majority of his people. They had been here for aeons before their homeland was declared Terra nullius (land belonging to no one) - as said justification for stealing it.
Koan went through their boot camps without any real choice in the matter, and that wasn’t karmic – it just wasn’t right. From the day he got out, he endeavoured to erase any trace of the old days so he could stay free and live the dream, not the spell. Such is life. Koan’s a pacifist, and thereby only has a peaceful design on the situation. Does the simulation have a peaceful design on him, was the question…
One of the few things he could be sure of was that in the long run – the way of the World would win over. In Koan’s estimation the real World is a long way removed from the secular world. He was often prone to whiling away long hot afternoons musing along these lines, staring up at the sky and wondering why disharmony was so prevalent here. Surely that wasn’t the default theme in the programming?
After-all the animals seemed to get by even though that prey instinct was hard wired in. They still had some kind of natural synchronicity with the environment locked in. Human brains are advanced enough to handle multi tasking, tool manipulation and multiplex language - surely that would presuppose we were supposed to cohabitate peacefully - with other species as well – he grinned at the irony.
Iona drives out into the grid of squares, signs, lights, surveillance, advertising and give ways. She pines for the open countryside or some far-off haven with no traffic and less road rules. She gathers that in many back of beyond countries, driving is basically free flow because humans trust each other more than they trust signs, lights and numbers. Iona’s car is reliable and cheap – and if it broke down she would fix it rather than bin it, she laughs.
Driving through the neighbourhood, Iona recognises society’s engine like structure. Every different part has to be independently sound, for them all to work together without breaking down. The engine working is quintessential to the vehicle moving forward. ‘Note the sarcasm,’ she makes a mental note. ‘Why does everyone have a god damn phone on them? Are they lost?’ She chuckles.
Perhaps it’s thoughts such as these that prompt her to seek answers, and find alternative solutions to maintaining health and happiness. Yes there are errands to run, tasks to action and all that, but not now! Iona is basically sick of subsistence tasks and the mundane. There has to be a way out she muses – while parking outside the meditation session she has convinced herself will provide an alternative.
Iona marches into the brightly coloured entrance noticing how the spacious, clear environment pacifies her. Sitting there in animated conversation is the meditation facilitator, alongside a few other folk grinning vividly. Joining the group Iona smiles with a basic feeling that she’s not alone on this exploration. She has heard before that, ‘the destination is the journey,’ if only it were that simple
Examining the facilitator, Iona cycles through the options... altruistic volunteer, on a cult’s payroll, enlightened, deluded, and back and forth. She recognises their voice resonates with stillness. It’s as though they’re acquainted with the cosmos, or they’ve befriended silence.
In the spaces between the rise and fall of breath, and the waves of meditative ideas drifting past, Iona reflects that the speaker genuinely cares. She wonders about their background; ‘has dedication to the journey within, replaced any relationship with the conventional?’ ‘What do they discuss over the shop counter at the dairy, or the petrol station?’ ‘Do they repeat things they have heard or read, or perceive and speak from intuition?’ ‘Is the resolution behind those eyes a result of their journey, or the reason for choosing it?’
The speaker encourages the group to stay within their ocean of peace. To focus on the deeper mind below words and ideas, to experience connectivity that goes beyond. Behind the speaker’s expression, Iona gets the impression of a deeper patience or calm. Recognising calm she feels at peace. She wonders why peace isn’t the norm these days and considers the myriad possibilities for shared happiness. The limitless nature of potential weighted against the summation of humanity as ‘social creatures.’ To be honest she was tired of it. That loop had been running its course for ages and was well overdue an update.
“.....so as you know, this is all about self discovery,” the facilitator smiles, and with a movement of their arm expounds the point. The words are lively, absent of any ambiguous direction in the tone;
“It’s important to note that you’re in charge of every step along the way, no one else is. You direct your own progress, no one else does… Know thyself - nothing else is necessary,” they grin broadly. Ask within, “Who am I – who is the one asking?” After you are dead where is the main character gone?”
Whoever they are, Iona’s glad to be around people who are are enthusiastic about better living. For the rest of the session they sit together comfortably in open meditation. Aspects of experience evaluate: “The minds’ true nature is clear light, similar to the daylight sky: clouds, birds and planes pass through it, however it’s still inherently, just the sky.” She rehashes that point over again - ‘the cloud is in the sky but the sky is not the cloud.’
Iona’s mind oscillates somewhere in between commonplace phrases and myriad realities. Central nervous system, spirit, mind. ‘Meditation is not minding the mind right?!’ she chuckles. ‘Quite removed from the mathematics of hitting the sin sign on the calculator then waiting for a wage cheque,’ Iona thinks, as the ring of a bell reverberates around the room.
After an hour or so’s meditation, Iona is in a calmer mindset. Belief systems and anthropological codes falling by the wayside. Holistic consciousness governing ego, not the other way around. Impeccability flows inevitably like the wind in the trees. Happiness is unconditional, like the sky. Our true mind is primordial, natural and free.
Iona notes that she’s able to isolate the ebb and flow of mental themes. Infinite experience besides irrelevant thoughts. Registering the spaces between thoughts – the tokens of impression. A magic detachment presents perpetual freedom. A breath of fresh air in an invigorating space. There’s nothing about meditation so far that doesn’t agree with Iona’s general understanding of the wax and wane rhythm that seems to predominate life.
Iona is aware of flow, like bubbles floating by in the breeze. Birds flying past in the sky. Leaves drifting down the road. She’s aware of varied emotional states arising and passing, while dwelling in a ubiquitous calm. She freely acknowledges basic infrastructural friendliness and companionship that’s an innate part of her nature, and surely fundamental to beings.
Whiling away a hot and hazy weekend morning in a spartan outback, under a small grove of tough native trees, Koan admires the flexibility and adaptability of branches. He’s hearing the symphony of life like an orchestra. One can tune into whatever rhythms and instruments they wish. Koan’s parameters have blossomed within to seek an integral sovereign journey with the natural World. True human identity and allegiance has always been to the tribe, the land and the heavens. Identifying with King or State was only really a commercial transaction. Like a bird of the sky or a fish of the sea, Koan simply considers himself ‘from Earth’ - the greater whole.
He hasn’t found it altogether too difficult generating enough jobs to keep himself fed and keep the agencies of darkness from the door, he grins. Greedy types always wanted the majority share, and most of human history could be understood as a means to that end.
Koan prefers distance from the crowd. He finds the collective psyche kind of - high-jacked. Karma, determination, status – all orchestrated. The progress toward true human nature involves navigating the control dynamic within and without - tiptoeing through fields of tulips. Looking around at the stark yet majestic surrounds, if he could have one real conversation with a stranger, Koan would begin with, “it’s all a trap mate, but you can snap the trap.”
“Wave your magic wand – hocus pocus, it’s all gone - the house always wins. Just look at nature mate – we are the only anomaly here, but it doesn’t have to be that way we can still walk the song lines and tune in!” The senses are what trap us here - it’s like we are blind in the vast cosmos. We think we are smarter than animals but they are far beyond us in so many ways,” he would say and laugh.
The interconnected nature of all beings, frees us from exclusive human mental thought association and renders it void. Inherently illusive, name and form appear from and vanish into the ether, like leaves form, then disintegrate into the ground. Koan freely acknowledges that sensory consciousness biology is underscored by an inherent void transience. He and his people are generally aware that the faculty of consciousness reality operates on the basis of collective non bias awareness and essential transcendence. Koan recognises that all things occurring on the level of his body-mind are just waves on the surface of the ocean of his true self – his holistic spiritual totality. In a natural process of contemplation, meditation or relaxation, his heart knows the dance of the cosmos, and is settled in the freedom of the sky.
Koan takes heart from the non-dual understanding of primordial, naturally aware, divine unity consciousness as innate truth. Thus, the consequent illusion manifested by beings stuck in a fraudulent dualistic mind-set is inconsequential to him. The natural synchronicity symphony of natural balance reigns merrily on. The great light beings, plants, provide for all. 4 of the 6 biggest species of beetle just wander about, predominantly eating flowering plants. Herbivores are not only the most populous but also the largest species on Earth. Take for instance a “brontosaurus”, kangaroo, an elephant, sea lion, panda, or a blue whale.
In Koan’s opinion, success doesn’t presuppose subscription to a certain group or cult, nor payment of fees that demand exorbitant “interest” or guarantee posthumous dividends. In his opinion, a natural state of freedom is the natural state of beings born in the realm. Ideas of predetermination, exclusivity, the sin doctrine and karmic birth are excuses for a slave culture and an unjustifiable caste and class system which is fuel for total financial domination by the “elite”.
‘The very notion of cognition – the ‘bait’ of the ‘idea’ has derailed the carriage of human race!’ Koan muses. That we could just loosen the shackles of ideas, and recognise them for what they are - make believe structures. Unreal mental structures, fragile as strands of spiders’ webs floating around in universal quantum foam. What happens to the house of cards built up on the sand when the storms roll in? They’re blown away back to their true chaotic nature he laughs.
Considering the abundant providence of the natural World, Koan surmises that by virtue of being here, we’re all entitled to a decent share of provisions. This doesn’t precipitate any systematisation, social structure or special grouping whatsoever. On the contrary it negates greed, hatred and delusion. Humanity’s inherent gifts of free choice and self-determination are self-evident. Our natural capabilities of resource diversification and community collaboration are so wondrous, it should be divine.
If life’s about choice, choosing involves options. An uncharted territory is better in both practice and theory, Koan considers, and knows that at the end of the day the end of oppression is a choice, collectively we hold the keys to eternity, and eternity is a fancy way of considering something that starts right now. What is definite is that ‘now’ has a great deal more relevance than ‘some time down the track.’ By universal decree we are granted the opportunity to share with the gifts of nature and experience the non bias freedom of love. We are entitled to a life of peaceful abiding. Why? Because love is the only truth.
Iona’s tired of having to spend so much time in menial money making activity, it’s nice to find time to wind down. The debt based economics and the slavery ritual could be a million miles away for all she cared. Iona has convinced herself of the fact that, ‘I am not an automation in a group slave fabrication that is run via political and financial corruption, media whitewashing and conventionalised instability across the board.’
The process of stilling her mind in meditation has really helped disentangle herself from the mire, and clarify herself and her environment. Sure it’s a bit of a stretch to transcend all “the aggregates” comprising matter; feeling; perception; mental states; and consciousness, but she does acknowledge their unique transient unreality in relation to the greater cosmos. Eclipsing the ‘aggregates’ as taught in the Buddhist lineage is rather a staid way to consider the beauty of reality in any case. However at least it’s not pure escapism, "everything gets better when you die".
The more clearly Iona can fathom that reality is beyond the apparent, the more she considers that hindrances to freedom are an intentional hijack. However that may be, beyond the stage set mirage, freedom reigns supreme and the fantastic clear light nature of the original mind can not be compromised. This type of feeling tends toward an unhurried and relaxed demeanour she reflects as she takes a gentle stroll in an orange sunrise through native wilderness.
Iona is quite capable of forging her own trail beyond actual poverty, as well as the poverty of mind and spirit. Iona contemplates that if these days are jaded with anything, they’re only jaded with the weight of waiting for communal happiness in the sense of collective empowerment and enrichment. Sure, she realises it would’ve been a cool discovery to find out that round stones roll… but also understands that didn’t imply we were supposed to roll them round and round Earth until land started sinking into sea.
Plants embrace light and nutrients. Animals explore and exalt in territory. Humans make concrete Lego lands and drive circuits around them between their favourite TV programmes? It does annoy Iona that we haven’t achieved equilateral access to healthy resources and safe community living across the board. Dexterous thumbs, brains capable of rocket science, complex linguistics and advanced engineering and yet the majority – the third world, experience poverty day in and day out.
Last week she’d picked up an interesting novel called Gamma by a Western woman who went out East and ending up marrying one of the local Highland nomads. One interesting passage which really caught Iona’s attention read:
“When Tsedup had applied for his passport to leave with me, he was supposed to have produced a birth certificate. He had no idea what they were talking about. When I had explained, he had said, “I exist. I don’t need a piece of paper to prove it.”
Koan wanders on. Being mostly broke but happy affords him space to be philosophical. He’s on a journey within a journey. The unfortunate apparent circumstance, dwarfed by the essential information realm of spirit consciousness that filters throughout this dreamlike place. Koan knows that the three dimensional process is underlaid by a multi-dimensional process, and always acknowledges the vast kaleidoscope that is a forgiving canvas of foreground affairs.
There were no signs that told him how long this journey would last or where it was leading. All there was was the slow yet sure realisation that beyond every inconsequential happening is the all pervading journey. When he will be able to rest and reflect about the tracks on which it’s taken him, Koan simply doesn’t know. All he knows for now is that there is a journey and that is all he needs.
The journey is the transcendental colour in the background. It is itself the theme, its’ perpetual essence echoed by the crashing waves. In vivid moments it is the only thing and all else exists as part of it. In others it somehow fades, or somehow he fades though he knows that it remains. It seems to exist independent of him however is also within him. Like that old framed poem at his grandparents, something about one set of footsteps along a sandy beech where the Lord was carrying the wayfarer.
‘Whither art he wander, he wanders not forsaken,’ thinks Koan, as he and his buddy arrive on the street of their dealers house. They get there just in time to see uniformed police bashing down the door with batons.
High tailing it out of there without a second thought, they bowl straight into the dealer just around the corner, soulfully singing blues lyrics in between munches of a fresh kebab. Without more than the exchange of a sentence, the three of them promptly relocate to the dealer’s other lodgings, and the next thing Koan knows is that the element is piping hot, the knives are ready waiting and they’re all gathered round the stove.
“Sweet as I saw you fellas. Shot, brother.” His voice is like his clothes, gruff, lived, the intonation of belonging. Meanwhile Koan’s buddy lays down what happened, “so we get to the joint right, and then bro full on, there’s these bully-men beating down the door.”
“Smiths,” the dealer grins, apparently oblivious to any emotional undercurrent about the shop getting hit. “Must have heard I got some gold,” he laughs humorously.
Tone refined by gestures. Gestures intoning clarity. Pungent gold laden smoke permeates the room.
Another few words turning into memories. Koan wanders on down the fine line he sees on the horizon. Left foot, right foot, the grand adventure between the Earth and sky. Place names really crack him up sometimes. ‘It exemplifies white man’s arrogance to name areas after themselves!’ he muses. ‘If the areas could speak they wouldn’t even be able to because they would just be incredulously laughing.’
In any case, Koan rates the indigenous take on place names. Consciousness of the place, not the person on it. ‘Just what’s the difference between an indigenous person and a non-indigenous person anyhow?’ ‘Oh that’s right,’ he grins, ‘non-indigenous people have more lizard genes spliced into their DNA,’ and laughs. ‘Anyway, everyone’s indigenous to somewhere, right..... even a lizard...’
Koan’s in a space where fixed identity is as indefinable an illusion as one day from the next. The whole thing, these journeys, those missions, he finds it bizarre that everyone’s so hooked up. ‘What a drama - how about the serenity?’
In Koan’s opinion belonging with the Great Spirit is something that never ceases happening for any creature anywhere, whether they realise it or not. One time, a guy called Muktananda had strengthened that understanding with the statement he read one sleepless starry dusk, “one should not suffer from the illusion that God exists here but not there. Show me a spot that is without the Lord. One must overcome the delusion that the Lord exists in that corner, that the universe exists in this corner, and that good lies in that corner, and that evil exists in this corner.”
Iona has taken her tent out into the wilderness to get away from it all. She’s just had it with society these days and needs a break. In a playing field such as cosmic wonder and ecological magnificence, something obviously went wrong she laughs ironically. She doesn’t buy into evolutionally theory in any way shape or form but if she did… how would that explain guiding economic, legal and political fundamentals being back in the dark ages?
She’s been through the rabbit warren of truth tellers online and is reconciled to the basics of the crazy dog-cat-mouse scenario society squanders in. She just doesn’t want to be trapped in the maze and pristine evenings in nature tap her into a deeper truth beyond the game of “common” wealth, funny money and by-the-corporation-for-the-state democracy.
The idea of ‘earning a living’ is a contradiction in terms and her main bugbear. Money as symbolic of goods and services to barter, need only operate as an unregulated token of exchange. The idea that money carries a private corporate debt value seems contrary to everything to do with living integral sovereign beings’ virtue and honour. It also compromises otherwise mutually abundant relationships based on the natural exchange of skill and produce.
In any case Iona’s well sold on the notion that the only law that applies to living men, women and children is the Common Law based on Natural Law – the universal moral truths that are inherent in nature. We are free to do what we please, as long as we do not infringe on the life, liberty, property, or rights of another. Verily, “Do unto others as you would do unto yourself” is the only real “law” in her understanding of Christ consciousness. The main bright side in her mind is that any ideas and statements by state men that contradict this are by rights fraudulent and inapplicable. If that doesn’t really fit into the divine right of kings or the mandate of heaven then they don’t really fit into her Christ consciousness, she laughs.
Besides, just like a relationship, it comes down to agreement: Iona’s well aware of the elements essential to the creation of a contract. And when one considers that the rule of society is only given the force of the law by the consent of the governed, it really makes one stop in their tracks. It shakes the stars in the heavens, causes the whole world to rumble and Iona rides a shooting star to another cosmos where words make sense and comprehension means coherence rather than lessons about less, class and subjects. In any case – or any realm - the integral sovereign being represented by Iona does not consent to ‘being governed’ as she is sovereign, so governs herself, de facto.
Since being on the move, Koan’s been able to get by eating bush foods and scavenging. He has roamed far afield and hasn’t had too much trouble picking up the occasional cash job here are there. The work game is not something he’s missing at all. Life is not work, life is life, it’s not work to live or live to work, it’s just live.
Why weren’t modern humans able to live their traditional lifestyles on their traditional homelands? If earth was a game – which traditions would have won anyway – that’s always on his mind. He loves to imagine or remember a Celestial Island embraced by the sun and the sea – a peace loving culture that fits into a predation free forest.
“You have to don the company uniform and work dawn to dusk 5 days out of 7 till you’re exhausted.” ‘What kind of a sad excuse for a prison is that? Crown land? What’s that? Our land. Go figure.’
At primary school they get the kids to repeat, “the verb is the doing word. Work is the word we will be doing most of our lives. We will do our homework.” ‘Why would he, or any of his people be interested in partaking in some massive paper-shuffling competition where everybody loses anyway? Share and share alike, that’s the basic principle of land, nature, and all of creation except humanity in any case.’
Plenty of Koan’s old buddies knew full well the whole job thing was a game of charades and used to just bluff their way through. Diamond geezers the lot of them. Laughter was always the unifying feature and if Koan can play his cards right he dreams of getting out of the Celestial islands one day and travelling to a world famous international laughing festival.
Koan was in good company. He’d line up with plenty of other untouchable and unemployable folk who only ever received their food ration tickets begrudgingly. He’d had to scavenge on the odd occasion and would notice seagulls and hawks at the dump gathering around to chuckle and laugh at the strange imperial droids and their glossy, bureaucratic vehicles. He’d also notice wildcats on the periphery of populated places chuckling and sniggering quietly, bemused by the psyche-challenged and oppressed worker soldiers that raced past at dusk on their way from the city.
Koan frowns as he considers the irony of the climb-the-ladder career scenario indoctrinated to kids at the national socialist workers youth training schools. They get to the top of the ladder when they’re about 50 having spent their entire life climbing it one measly rung at a time, then they reach out and realise the ladder was leaning on nothing and leading to nowhere so they have nothing to grasp but thin air.
Koan doesn’t have one in his makeshift bush shack but he reflects how the vocational world would operate around the king tool of control, the television. The worker bees would buzz off out during the day and race home at the end to tune straight into their favourite post-Orwellian Ministry of Truth broadcast, and other such ‘programming.’
Koan reflects that he and his mates grew up on the other side of huge bureaucratic juggernaut buildings of the State Department. Sterile and clinical, with security guards in tow. Local aimless kids, bedraggled. The notoriously inefficient way the Department dealt with valid and pressing survival issues among his people. The blatant audacity with which they had come to his community to supposedly help, then not bother to employ a single one of them! Instead, flying in planeloads repeater droids with egos as large as their appetites. The recruiting agency people never used to mind what they did after ‘filing’ the application forms, as long as it involved going away. Some of those folk had a great knack for making Koan feel as though he had completely disappeared and looking around sometimes he wondered if they were right.
Through a lifetime of deep contemplation of nature and her innate intuition Iona recognises ‘Natural Law’ as a pivotal foundation stone for everything decent and true.
In Latin, natura means ‘the course of things; natural character; constitution; quality; the universe.’ Natus means ‘born.’ The old French nature means ‘nature; being; principle of life; character; essence.’ The word nature also encompasses ‘spirit, creation, heredity, birth, mother and innate self.’
Between the sanity gaps in her day job, when her mind is able to resurface and clear, she dreams of utopian purity until it becomes visible in her mind. Freedom, love, wisdom. Love, wisdom, freedom. Wisdom, freedom, love. ‘The law of nature predominates… all are in liberty... none under the will of another.’
Iona’s recognition of humanity’s greater unity grants her peace; firstly with her own mind, accordingly with the universe, and consequently among others. It’s a silent and profound reaffirmation of belonging. Preponderance upon the notion that we’re all in it together is a security that expands far beyond any convoluted dramas in the day job world which she often thinks of as “the fiction”.
To be honest Iona thinks that the majority of fellow terrestrials also feel as though they’re part of an ocean of perpetuating kindness. It explains her preoccupation with music. The more people harmonising and the greater scope of instruments singing in tune, the better the symphony.
As some medium once transcribed, ‘knowledge is the enemy of faith.’ Iona trusts the core of her faith, rather than trying to understand it intellectually and thus becoming confused by some dogma of subjective understanding. Iona re-ascertains that she’s not only alive to act out rote role-plays in sub-plots. That it involves the prescription of letting go of the facade, so that it will relinquish her, is greatly encouraging.
She’d once witnessed an authentic indigenous sand mandala in construction. Beautiful mosaics of coloured sand that depicted happy people and environments. Meticulously constructed, then without further ado beyond a shout out to freedom, swept up into a pile and unceremoniously yet ceremoniously offered to a local river. Iona appreciates the true artistic intention, art for art’s sake. ‘No bar codes nor exorbitant price tags involved!’ she laughs that, ‘no money changed hands – only sand!’
’For sure, happiness is a more accurate abacus for gauging community health than prosperity right?!’ She loves the goodwill lesson of the sand mandala that one will not find for sale at any art house anywhere, no matter how reputable. No matter how reputable, the royal English tongue sometimes has difficulty striking tune with a not-for-profit rationale.
“They drink if they’re happy and they drink if they’re sad,” is Koan’s buddy’s approach to psychology. The outback public tavern that he runs makes that a win-win situation. Like anyone else in the pub, Koan’s well aware of the fine line between happiness and sadness.
True happiness however is not dependant on causes, and Koan can laugh along with the rest of the pub mob about that ironic fine print in our contract with the stars. True happiness, beyond the illusory lattice encourages him that transcendence of suffering is simply a matter of cutting its leash. The pot of gold Koan carries around with him is that freedom is an inherent right as long as he is open to the freedom in all. Happiness, the natural faculty of a free mind.
He loves the pub dialogue. Everyone’s a philosopher with a few put away. Before all is said and done, a universal creator being would want ALL beings to be free and happy, not just human beings. Never mind lotto, a free and happy mind is the ticket to natural abundance. Forget about the drama llama of subservience to the kingpin alpha male of the species.
’By what manner of delusion did others concern themselves with viewing Koan and his people as subjective? Was it that they themselves were subjugated and had no other way to relate?’
Koan reflects to the publican that, “pub culture probably hasn’t changed a great deal over the centuries and for that matter societal culture hasn’t either”, and laughs hysterically. “But you’d think that with the invention of modern electronics like telephones and computers they’d leave the past behind. But PKD nailed it - cultural conventions, academic theories and legislative customs of the BCs somehow got stuck in time and is running loops!”
The publican agrees, “Listen mate we all know they’re paid big bucks to praise propaganda and the party line. Remember group-think is the lowest common denominator – sad but true,” he grins.
In good spirits, Koan wanders off into the inky horizon. A canvas of stars stretched out above him, he falls off to sleep in a meadow nearby, wondering at the other galaxies of news. ‘Here’s hoping there’s some good news in that lot.’ he chuckles quietly with only the wildlife to hear.
Iona has recently noticed that moreover than ‘wanting to do what she wants to do,’ a conceptual change has occurred in which now, ‘she wants to do what she does.’ A semantic yet significant change of the guard.
’Why did you do that then?’
’Why did they draw buffaloes on cave walls in Celtria, spaceships on cave walls in Cananga, and weird electric plasma shapes on cave walls all around the World?’
Probing the psyche she inhabits to the greatest depth she can dive to, Iona discovers few conclusions to be drawn. She feels like the novice astronomer who on first examining the universe, finds that it just continues to expand. Iona’s figured that reality is not a myth (or thinks she has). She jovially ticks a couple of apparent absolutes off the list... day and night, conscious and unconscious. As much as Iona’s awake and aware, she takes it for granted that later she’ll be asleep and in dreams. That’s not to say that she’s no more aware while asleep than awake in a dream.
The rhythms of tree leaves in the gentle breeze assuredly waving in the air. Thundering waves on the shimmering canvas of sand. Iona’s often only aware of the Great Spirit that is an ever-constant, reassuring yet unfathomable mystery. Anything else was not a diversion, it was the way there. Stuff that rhymes. Themes. Sub plots. Dynamic character tangents. Dramas. Protagonist gets the run around by semantics.
Walking home later the Sky feels like it’s rotating in a counter-clockwise direction from the east though Iona couldn’t guarantee it. At least she’s not standing at the crossroads spinning around in circles, she grins. Long before hearing about Gurdjieff’s 4th Way, she’d spent countless hours on the lawn as a kid exploring the universal nature of spin, spiralling like a Sufi Dervish.
Iona recalls regular beach trips from those years and making sand castles for shell communities and the occasional crab. On one occasion she remembered pointing out a shiny green leprechaun to her aunty. Her aunty had telepathically communicated that she and the leprechaun went way back to the fairy kingdom. However as though in an afterthought, or deliberate revoking of the more common telekinesis, she’d gone on to state in plain language that, “actually dear, the proper name is leviathan,” pointing far out into the ocean, way past the leprechaun! It’s the conspiratorial grin that now, decades later, Iona’s reminded of.
She carries on with a feeling of potential endlessness, the resonance of a timeless continuum, and a liberty to feel like forever! Iona was moving on, moving on by. The title of the song would be ‘moving on, bye’ or ‘moving on,’ by Iona. In any case it would be about appreciation of the sentient World and the scintillating skies that afford our existence. Be alive, be free, hold hands with thin air, run out of questions and keep smiling. Hey, at the very least she’s trying. Congratulations, she got the right idea and that’s all that was expected.
Feeling somewhat like a dot on the horizon in a vast wilderness area, Koan fully realises that there is no fixed identity to his being that one can point a finger at. He experiences this in the profound majesty of the ancient land around him. It is no maxim learnt or gathered from the subjective frame of reading words about quantum physics. This transcends thought entirely, in that just as one who lives a long way inland knows the weather will be different by the seaside on the distant coast, they cannot describe it definitively.
One might look at a map of their town in a map of their country on a map of the realm and maintain exclusive allegiance to that drop in the ocean, rather than the ocean. One might hear that more than seven billion people were on the planet, but still place more importance on the notion that they were some kind of fixed self identity.
None of the indigenous people promoted ego individualism over tribal identity and holographic sovereignty. Koan knew that ‘Eastern’ philosophies were similarly aware that separate self nature caused mental suffering. When God said ‘go forth and multiply,’ Koan’s pretty sure S/He didn’t mean ‘go forth and multiply selfishness.’
At the Flight Centre, supposedly confirming air tickets for a future work conference, Iona suddenly decides she’d simply rather not go, in fact she’d rather not go back to work at all, and just like that, decides to throw in the day job and grab a ticket overseas.
’Why not?’ The motto in the meantime.
Her life takes surprisingly little time to organise, and before too long her safety belt is fastened, the tray table is folded away and she’s sound asleep at 34,000 feet.
’Holy smoke,’ Iona thinks as the plane breaks through the haze and her eyes meet Cananga. ‘That’s not quite the Cananga I’d imagined…’ Huge clusters of stone brick and mortar glare up from below. A dusky glaze, something in between dust, smoke and pollution shrouds the horizon from view.
’Pauper turned princess, Oz of the East; city of quick riches; ill-gotten gains and fortunes lost on the tumble of dice,’ the guidebook reads.
’Boring conventional clichés,’ Iona thinks and taking a black vivid marker to the title page crosses out ‘Lonely’ and writes ‘The.’ She then crosses out ‘Planet,’ writes ‘Circus’ and laughs. The air hostess who happens to be walking by, stops and tells Iona, “I’m sorry dear but company regulations state that only children under one metre tall, senior citizens and successful white collar criminals are allowed to laugh out loud,” in a quiet yet serious tone, with only the slight hint of a smile.
As the plane touches down Iona is randomly reminded of the sound of the didgeridoo played before Midnight Oils’ Olympics performance of Beds Are Burning. The next stuff is vague; seeing elements of the Earth in everything, the aeroplane, the terminal building, the coffee table, the carousel, the taxi driver.
Iona’s arrived, not knowing all that much about how things tick in Cananga, the magnificent jewel of the Ancients. She wouldn’t say that the sense of not knowing worried her though. It was one of her preferred opinions. Back at home the customary answer to any question was, “no worries buddy”. Iona was happy to be from a place where everyone encouraged everyone else that there was nothing to be concerned about and they were good friends regardless. Iona’s never gone in for perceptional preconditioning. She’s blessed to be afforded the freedom to accept events without the shackles of directive prejudice.
One of her favourite role models, the Buddha formerly known as Prince Siddhartha Gautama, donated the phrase, ‘this too will pass.’ Obviously he didn’t speak English any better than Jesus spoke Latin or Iona speaks Canangan however that was the nuance. Maybe it’s the philosophical influence of the Buddha’s teachings on the land Cananga that is a major catalyst for Iona’s choosing to travel there.
’What is the destination but the journey - What is the purpose but to live purposefully - What is life but sharing and caring.’ Iona figures this is the right place for confirmation, the birthplace of Zen before it was Zen.
Sitting in contemplation the night before travelling, the further Iona had journeyed into silence, the more her mind calmed and her plans settled. Her simple wish was self evident - basically - whatever happened, she just wanted other people to be happy. Not only that, she also wanted to be happy.
Iona and her alter ego wander away from the puppet nature prevalent in the muppet ‘West.’ Wander over to Cananga? Hey - she liked the stories about flying sages of bygone ages, surely that was incentive enough! Also the ‘each individual is a microcosm of the universe’ theory has it going on.
Iona asks herself some tough questions as well. She recollects once writing, ‘remember to get where you’re going when you run away.’ It doesn’t matter so much now that she’s left, even though she can still recall the feeling of utter existential uncertainty as tears flowed like driving rain.
To Iona there’s no perception that simply travelling, wandering for the sake of wandering, is purposeless. Far from it! She actually views it as quite the contrary. Sadly the primary alternative to going walkabout pans out as working for a system of greed, corruption and slavery back home. No thanks!
Iona considers that she has more purpose wandering around in a foreign country on a shoestring, than an entire floor of the organisation she used to work for. A financially productive global conglomerate, they traded with the ethics of professional wrestlers, and the principles, policies and procedures of thieves.
Sling the Kathmandu tramping bag across her back and stroll off into Cananga past the hawkers and cabbies with the air of a local. Low-cal. Blend, the overriding theme optimising Iona’s ‘go with the flow’ attitude nowadays. By the time she reaches a place to sit down and chill, the afternoon is fading out. Time for a cup of tea and settle into the surrounds.
Harking back, Iona considers that this whole sojourn buzz could have started out around the time of the yearly staff function when she sang ‘Nothing Else Matters,’ as loud as possible, from the balcony of the 11th floor at about 4.30a.m, one Sunday morning.
The irony of relocation sweeps the carpet out from under her feet entirely. Rather than the external circumstance, reality now shines clearly through, as the mind that perceives it! However, past experiences have proven to Iona that the mind itself can fluctuate like the weather. She laughs merrily as these yardsticks of a solid perceptual realm both dissolve into the ether. Currently faced with swiftly shifting perceptions, like moving sands in the desert, Iona’s less swayed than she expected to be by the rapid adjustments. ‘West’ vis-à-vis ‘East.’ Holiday vis-à-vis work. Life vis-à-vis tourism.
Take a puzzle for instance; each separate piece is distinct. Each pieces’ individual shape is unique. However a piece of a puzzle is nothing but for the total picture. One piece relies on four to eight other pieces for a purpose and a place to become part of the whole. The completed puzzle is only the combined arrangement of pieces. The separate piece is a nonsense on its own. Iona considers that if one conceptualises a human being as a piece in a puzzle, then all government would be is a pile of puzzle pieces from different boxes scattered on the ground.
Iona’s puzzled by the puzzling puzzle. The entrenched and conventionalised pecking order of class and caste hierarchies. A dictatorial education system. The media out to lunch, or under the thumb of some dictatorial artificial intelligence X drone from the black iron prison. Our relationship with the wider environment and ecology around us is incompatible. Iona feels there’s no rhyme or reason to it all.
At the end of the day, the beginning, middle and end of the play, she considers that our primary interaction in life is with the galactic universe and the quantum field that supersedes it. Here and now paradoxical experience storms through, erratic like lightning, constant like stars. The illusion doesn’t separate us from freedom beyond. We’re redeemed by the constant of now.
What Koan would do to stay away from the hullabaloo is go hiking through the bush, collecting food as he went. There’s plenty of back country and uncountable goat tracks and trails in the area. One cool winter morning finds him trekking around a lake track on some rock paths. The dawn sun cloaks the horizon and rays of light clear the ground frost.
Koan can well imagine the rocky expanse as it would have been pre-invasion, bordered by an infinite array of natives; but a motley crew of exotics have now taken over the area. A cute contrast to intermittent stands of remnant natives. The sub-alpine sunrise casts a surreal light display across the water.
Koan loves the stillness and peace of the greater area, that he’s getting to know well. What surprises him, is how the same place can vary so greatly from one day to the next. There’s a lasting continuity to the landforms themselves of course but the plants are always changing, ex-foliating, stretching, and dancing with the weather. Scatterings of rocks often slide about, especially when wind and rain come along to stir up proceedings.
The plants are nearly as variable as the weather. Many of them appear quite differently in the evening than they had in the morning. The colours vary in their hues, shades and contrasts alter, buds and flowers transform. That’s just within a single day, let alone a cycle of the moon, not to mention the passing of a season. Koan’s world-view expands to fully incorporate the incredible sensitivity of the plant kingdom and admire the stoic yet transient nature of the World around him. Never-mind gravity, it’s all about the spirit of growth! The plants bless him with the gift of understanding that there is no such thing as permanence, only permanent transience.
‘Such holistic beauty and resonance is in stark contrast to the human realm. They haven’t quite been able to fence off nature entirely,’ he grins. They should stick a sign up at the gate and call it Paradoxia not Celestia, he laughs. How did they just plain misinterpret their role with nature? Life has a purpose right, and its not just gather with the loyal assembly on the weekend and wait for the Organist to play some tunes.
From ecological respect, it’s no great leap forward to multi-lateral cultural well-being. From there it’s a smooth transition to intra-galactic & inter-galactic cooperation and collaboration!
The 20th Century machines of mass destruction syndrome only left hell to pay. The epic tragedy they piled up for us, a stark and lifeless debt mountain. If they want to play ‘Simon says do this - Simone says do that,’ and they all want to be one or the other, that’s their game, leave them to it. Without ever having waded through the countless pages of the Crown corporation’s anti-people legislation, Koan could basically summaries it in two sentences:
i) ‘Everything material and immaterial, visible and invisible, is the Crown corporations.’
ii) ‘No-one’s allowed to do anything unless the Crown corporation profits from it.’
The main thing they forgot, Koan muses, as he sets off back through the wilderness, is that as Earth is free, it’s not for sale.
Odyssey
Iona’s refreshed and reinvigorated. She’s experiencing renewed vivacity and reformulated enthusiasm in general. So glad to have followed the impulse that took her across the hardest bridge, between home and away. Iona and her life and times travel kit circumnavigate the inner city buildings aimlessly aware of the surrounds, while introducing her feet to the continent. Fully, change is an absolute principle and it’s not so much a matter of whether or not one can change, it’s a matter of accepting constant change. In some kind of transition phase placing the pieces of the puzzle together, Iona and her mojo move on.
Walk around the shops checking out the goods; wine glass sets, ‘Eastern’ tablecloths, ‘Western’ pulp fiction, toy soldiers, colonial memorabilia, clichéd Oceanic souvenirs and meticulously packed ornamental sweets. Iona doesn’t want any of it, but does find a stainless steel thermos flask at the convenience store. ‘Circling suns and surfing stars!’ There’s a new Tintin comic on the shelf. ‘Blustering Barnacles!’
Cap, khakis, anorak and backpack, Iona walks around in light drizzle that greets the early evening. Paces to the beat of hawkers coming in from three sides to offer cheap rates for deluxe hotels that serve ‘western’ style food. “Why would I want to eat ‘western’ food in Cananga?” Iona queries with a grimace. “Nein danke, fine effort though, au revoir,” she shrugs and smiles politely wondering if the hawkers ever earn enough to go beyond hand-to-mouth.
Iona walks along a line of lantern like street lamps that light up the misty skies. A couple of kilometres on she’s confirmed that this place is definitely no atypical set-up like she’s used to; with the occasional park, rose garden, pub, grocery store, backpacker, hardware outlet and church. Rather this is a scene from another realm, or a movie set from Star Wars. The amount of foot and pedal traffic at this hour is quite unreal and beyond Iona’s’ ability to comprehend. Cananga is an entirely unique land where everything is so vastly different that it would be near impossible to imagine. Iona had always wanted to wake up in that parallel universe of course, but this is another piece of the same planet!
The hawker’s long since vanished, Iona finds a makeshift campsite on a rocky hillock beside a late-night restaurant. Too tired to pitch her tent properly she tends toward guerilla styles and morphs the tent fabric around the Kathmandu 4 season sleeping bag. A few hours later waking to a conscious nightmare in the form of a solid downpour. Sliding damp tent and bag into backpack, she negotiates the slope with a headlamp, finding uneasy shelter under restaurant eaves in the well advanced night. As far as what the vagrant Canangan stranger sheltering from the storm thinks of her random escapade, she will never know. It is her first lesson in the impossible barrier that inability to communicate by language presents.
People move in and out of electric light shadows and opioid sheets of rain on the street, with guile like trampoline gymnasts or acrobatic motifs of jazz. Neither the weather nor the time seems to faze the locals however Iona’s too tired to worry. Mental note; ‘jacket only keeps out the weather when it’s fine. No doubt was made by cheap materials in nearby sweat shop factories. Never purchase unconscionably again!’
As day dawns, Iona’s rapidly reformulating travel ideas and rehashing plans. The original plan was arrive in Cananga, then take it from there. Perhaps if one turned the clock back a few hundred years, they would more easily be able to replicate the journeys of itinerant wayfarers, Iona considers. These days, packing up the troubles in the old kit bag and hiking off with a full belly, a smile, and the clothes they’re wearing, isn’t so easy as it once might have been.
In an ardent and enthusiastic conversation with her favourite uncle before leaving, Iona had tried to maintain that beyond all other things; belief in the overarching power of compassionate intention, faith in enduring loving-kindness that is non discriminative, added to virtuous conduct and the humility that leads to joy in the well-being of all other beings; were the only things that were important in this life. He’d laughed and smiled to the tune that she was naive, and his expression revealed shades of irony when he’d replied, “that’s all very well and good my young friend”.
Iona remembered her Uncle’s parting advice as though he’d just imparted it: “Just remember three things okay: Focus on the good things – the best place to be, is happy - everything is money and money is nothing.”
Iona spends a couple of days wandering around and is bewildered by Cananga’s scope and expansiveness, and expensiveness. Her stuff has thoroughly dried out at a backpackers, and she’s enjoyed selections of local cuisine at mealtimes. Like the city, a meal is only what one makes of it, Iona grins. She loves the vibrant atmosphere, the widely varying architecture and the relaxed nature of the Canangan galaxy.
Of course it’s the locals that make the place. They seem really laid back and friendly and she’s had a few excellent conversations about nothing in particular. As far as the other foreign backpackers, Iona doesn’t even have to make the decision not to try to be pro-active in communication, it just occurs naturally. She hasn’t taken a vow of silence of course, but is far more interested in watching the trees waving in the wind and the geese float past down at the river than she is about hearing the various opinions of other backpackers. As far as partying, or looking for a relationship is concerned, it’s just not really a motivation for Iona now, she’s perfectly happy with the flow and the Zendo.
Liyan city, Iona decides. It’s not like she just shuts her eyes, points her finger randomly at a map of Cananga, and lands it on Liyan, or anything. It’s not as though she puts a bottle in the middle of the map and spins it around to see where it will point to, either. Having done the standard research on the myriad plethora of marvellous places to travel to in Cananga, she intuitively considers that Liyan will be as good a launching pad as any, and books a train ticket.
Being subsistence based in the outback, Koan’s certainly not missing the bills. Rustling up his own food in the wild is most invigorating and refreshingly authentic! If he chose to broadcast his mug on camera he would probably make a fortune on the survivalist and bush craft corner of the internet. Admittedly he does have the best of both worlds with regular missions into nearby towns to top-up supplies. A flint he scored in an old op-shop is his most prized possession – a nod to Prometheus and the divine spark within, he grins with a deep sense of gratitude and belonging.
’A flint is 100 times more valuable than a phone or a watch’ Koan laughs. There it goes again wandering off into reasons and whys... the mind never dies. ‘Take clock time for instance - just a series of cognitive diversions to circumnavigate the heart of the matter.’
If one takes out the hours and the minutes and just concentrates on the seconds, that’s essentially what they’re doing to universal reality when they just focus on clock time as time. ‘Ultimately there is no clock time, but the first step to understanding that is throwing away the clock,’ Koan laughs. He is reminded of the story of the university professor going to visit a well-respected Zen Master to learn about Zen. The Master invited him to sit for a cup of tea. The professor sat down and started talking about Zen. The Master quietly prepared and poured the tea. When the teacup was full, he kept pouring. The professor watched the overflowing cup until he couldn’t restrain himself shouting, "It’s full! No more will go in!" "The same with your mind. How can I teach you Zen unless you first empty your cup?" the Master replied.
It’s like that song refers to, one knows one could break things down to ‘minute after minute, hour after hour,’ however would rather employ the moment better than waiting for class to end. Both the little hand and the big hand point to the void. Both hands point to now. Everything is in a continuum of now, by the measure of an essential energy, not an empirical one.
For instance if Koan asks, ‘How old is the sound?,’ or ‘how old is the point?’ and answers, ‘54 million years,’ it would be a nonsense reply. Linear time cannot age an inter-dimensional quantum structure that is ageless and timeless. On a cellular level both the point and the sound are being reborn every moment. ‘We’re just wave length and vibratory energy!’ Koan declares to an old hardwood tree he is leaning against. ‘The quantum forest doesn’t even register the outer shell or the physicality!’ Koan recites an Amit Goswami poem he remembers, “I am spirit, I am truth, I am love divine. This body mind, a dream of mine.”
One of his Op-shop treasures this month, The Sea Kingdoms – The History of Celtic Britain & Ireland by Alistair Moffat has a passage: “The Gaels have at least two words, amisir and tide which can mean both time and weather, and although this is difficult to demonstrate, it is likely that the use for weather came first. Something of the sense of this remains in the phrase ‘time and tide wait for no man.’ Similarly, indigenous tribesmen have no use for a word that only means time: it always has to mean something else first, like milking time, or flood time. There is no separate word for time and therefore it is difficult to waste it or save it.”
It’s not rocket science but Koan can see that it requires universality, which is extremely diverse, for sure.
Iona’s journey of the heart continues south west through rural real Cananga well away from the hustle and bustle that population density gives rise to in large urban areas. Sitting idle for hour upon hour as the train scuttles along, she reaches a conclusion on why the great majority of local people don’t seem to travel much for leisure. It’s apparent that they cannot afford to, and also that they cannot afford lots of things. Iona’s concept of ‘poor’ has turned full circle and she knows she’ll never view the label ‘Made in Cananga’ with nonchalance again.
The train plods along and Iona and her fellow passengers sit back and listen as the rhythm of the train combines with a harmonious group of 8 and 9 year olds singing about their trip to spring camp. Eventually, as the stars roll on around Earth as evening wanders into night, they roll into Liyan city. ‘Is today more or less than a thousand miles from tomorrow?’ Iona wonders for no reason other than reflecting on the spinning wheels of the often indeterminable mind.
The culinary delights of Liyan are probably pre-eminent in the minds of all the passengers as they disembark. Even in a place the scale of Liyan, Iona has an immediate sense of a deeper round table sense of community that seems hard wired throughout the country. She ambles past scores of families, friends and colleagues dining al fresco. Rather than sitting with individual meals and conversing across rectangle tables, they’re at round tables sharing platters. That seemingly minor difference of etiquette creates a profound difference of atmosphere and really adds to the camaraderie.
During an orientating walk the next morning, Iona gets a sense of the breadth and scope of Liyan. ‘What an amazing mirage,’ she thinks, then heads back to the backpackers for a breather and to begin reading ‘A Word Called Meditation.’ Meditation had been a primary, if not the primary idea behind travelling she recalls. Although a relatively straight forward idea, Iona is finding that ongoing peace and serenity in meditation can be somewhat evasive. Apart from the obvious issue of Shangri-la’s uncertain location, the place in the mind that emulates the perpetual happiness and serenity found in Shangri-la, is somewhat elusive.
The book suggests that rather than read about meditation, people should just meditate! Iona puts the book down and takes the opportunity to meditate in the dorm room. Rather than astral travelling to Amida Buddha’s Pure Land, she experiences a rush of thoughts, ideas and emotions - it’s more like, ‘um’ than ‘om.’ After humming along to the chorus of the song ‘where is my mind’ for a while, Iona strongly determines that the principle of ongoing meditation is something she firmly commits to, then falls asleep.
The afternoon sees her strolling around a nearby island to induce a state of calm. ‘Wow,’ is her original impression of the nature laden island. Iona grins at a bizarre sense of accomplishment just for making it here to meander casually around the café and shop lined streets and avenues. This popular island destination also houses many old buildings from the foreign populations during the Drug Wars. Walking lazily around these worn out vestiges of days gone by isn’t so dissimilar to walking around a museum, Iona considers, and wonders what it would have been like when the buildings had a bit more life and lustre about them.
So many contrasts: the urban rush, serene natural backdrop contrast. The rich, poor contrast. ‘East,’ ‘West’ – new, old – village, city – foreigner, local... Walking around the island relaxes Iona’s mind as though the external contrasts put her internal contrasts into perspective. She’d like to be able to meditate like the Buddha sure, but she’s also starting to realise that meditation isn’t an end in itself – it offers a perspective or standing post from which to negotiate the illusion. A brief ferry ride transports the tourists and local workers back to the mainland and Iona wanders slowly toward the backpackers down side streets under swaying tree branches.
In the early evening she’s intrigued to happen upon an old temple building. Inside the grounds, two exquisite lion statues are set resolutely in what Iona can only describe as a perfectly balanced landscape. A few people shuffle about the grounds including a couple of robe clad monks and nuns. Inside the temple hall are four or five large statues of male and female Buddhas alongside one another. Intricately ornate, marvellously decorated, they look so very austere and yet bring forth a real sense of awe in Iona’s mind. For a long time she stands with hands clasped before these apt representatives of human potential.
Back at the backpackers, Iona reads more on Buddha Nature - each and every human being’s intrinsic nature. Our collective mind is liberated. Our sovereign heart is transcendent - in a state of peace, benevolence and serenity, awoken to the utmost innate human potential. The purpose of being here is to collectively manifest the pure quantum archetype of Buddha Nature within.
For the next few weeks, Iona explores Liyan slowly and takes a couple of day trips to the mountainous north east, for some long hikes through the white cloud hills. From here she gets a much better idea what the traditional Cananga would have been like. Standing on the hillside, the vista back toward the city and across the past is superb. There are some fantastic works of traditional Canangan landscape paintings for sale. The mountains flowing into waterfalls and valleys merging into rivers with the weather etched throughout the holographic images. Nature echoes into the foreground where scenes such as traditional village life and daily cultivation activities are depicted. Iona’s happy she didn’t travel to the urban south to go sightseeing around castles in the sand. Making temples in the mind is much more fun.
The empty clouds rolling by in the breeze, the open sky and the lack of an itinerary affords such a feeling of freedom for Iona as she roams about the timeless trails. An occasional monastery stands steadfastly here and there, pagodas serve as shade or shelter and cafés offer refreshment along with freely doled out conversations in hesitant English. Vivacious monks and nuns frequent the area, a poignant contrast to the tired lines on many of the older faces whose expressions tell of times of travail and tribulation.
Koan’s arranged to stay in a friend’s rustic old cabin for a while. Surrounded by native forest in the hill country he has a chance to re-evaluate. The irony of his drifting lifestyle is that he’s travelled a psychosomatic full circle and is left facing an illusory void, confident that it’s just a dazzling void, brilliant in breadth and scope. It’s occurred to Koan that it’s the filtration of ideas that is far more important than their accumulation. He consequently notices that the academic habit of filling up the mind with opinions about matters pertaining to phenomena is the result of taking left brain processing faculty far too seriously.
Sitting there in the hut with a sub tropical lightning storm brewing, Koan’s confident that the accumulation of data and the sculpting of speculation pertaining to data can be a major distraction from actual awareness. Emergency situations like potential bushfires demonstrate this clearly. Koan laughs ironically that if one was too busy theorising about how they would cut fire-breaks without actually cutting them, they could get caught out. In the case of a bushfire situation, it’s too late to read the emergency manual, delay to respond immediately or flee could be fatal. Midnight Oil and Billy Joel lyrics both indicate the paradox:
“How can we sleep while our beds are burning?”
“We didn’t start the fire. No we didn’t light it but we tried to fight it”.
The isolated cabin lends to a contemplative atmosphere. The natural environment is inspiring in itself, imparting innate truth and instilling in Koan courage to let it go. Let it all go, the mental nonsense, the unhelpful emotions, the thoughts pertaining to ego. What a lot of unhelpful clutter, Koan laughs happily as he unlocks the cages of these wild birds of the great expanse and sets them free. Koan races a long way away from preconditioning - through clouds, silver linings, storms and fine spells. Reaching out into the great beyond Koan finds that what he’d anticipated, no longer has any relevance. He smiles in contemplation while his mind fragments or expands into millions of microcosmic particles of light.
The storm overhead battering the trees and shrubs outside, reinforces the advantage of flexibility and non-attachment to rigidity. It was only recently that he read somewhere that plants had been on the planet for some 500 million years or so longer than we had.
In a sense Koan’s beginning to enjoy the isolation. He remembers some tiresome townsfolk who were content spending entire conversations with one another proving there was far more evidence to support evolutionary theory than creationism, by acting out examples. Alternately they were dead set on proving creationism via varying degrees of a god or goddess complex.
The lure of the more laid-back western Cananga guides Iona back to the train station. The only train tickets left are hard-seat berths, though at least she has time to grab some green tea for her thermos before disembarking. As the train rolls off in a north western direction on a crisp yet cloudy spring afternoon, Iona reflects that the trip to Cananga has already healed much of her preconditioning.
The guy she’s sitting alongside is not humming Buddhist mantras, nor sitting in the lotus position. As the train cruises through the outskirts of Liyan, he pipes up and asks if she speaks English.
“Sure, it’s the common language back home. How come you know it?”
“I teach martial arts to the English speaking tourists. They teach me English. They get good deal, I get confused,” he laughs joyfully.
“Oh cool. I know what you mean, a conversation with a native English speaker can be like trying to talk a cat down a tree,” Iona smiles. “I don’t know much about martial arts. It’s not really about fighting though is it?”
“Hahaha,” he laughs. “Martial arts is about honour. It is the defence of the Earth and Sky. Life is martial arts. Everything is martial arts. Always martial arts.”
“Okay hang on sir, I’ll get a pen and write that down,” Iona rifles through her bag in animation. “What you have told me is priceless. I couldn’t begin to pay for the teaching.”
“You’re a good student lady. First student to get the idea without coming to martial arts class,” he smiles appreciatively and lapses back into a tiger-like silence.
The long haul train rides and buses that carve tracks around the Mainland cast a phenomenal feeling of vastness across Iona’s soul. She hadn’t realised there was so much space, so much land and expanse across Earth. Some may consider this statement silly, however if they’d been to the little town halfway around Celestia where she was from, they’d get the idea.
If this is the wake-up call that Iona requires to finally understand that the idea of travelling rationally or cognitively through to a point of liberation, salvation or enlightenment in any language, let alone English, is in itself ludicrous, she’s got it. It’s a veritable paradox, Iona laughs at herself. Meditation now takes on martial arts proportions and seems like something out of Dungeons & Dragon’s. Her soul propensity affected her die roll of strength, constitution, wisdom, dexterity, intelligence and charisma. Her experience level is affected by insights she is attaining and others she encounters in the quantum flux.
The first rays of morning light eventually break through and the travellers are greeted by a view of crop culture perfection. Terraced, water-channelling rice slopes probably thousands of years old. Astonishingly effective, yet somehow simple.
Iona recalls the section in the book ‘Nomadic Camels’ about the social or class segregation traditionally played out on the trains. Considering social and class divisions, it makes Iona sick to think of the altars to greed, block upon block, in the ‘developed world.’ ‘What about the fact that the developed and industrialised ‘West,’ treats Cananga as though it was a sweatshop manufacturing plant? You don’t read about that in the papers.’
It’s a real wish of Iona’s that the concept of absolute power corrupting absolutely, absolutely ceases to perpetuate in the modern age. The sickening lessons of history emphasise the dire need for planetary balance and open-mindedness, mutual consideration and kind-heartedness.
’Is this just a pipe dream?’ Iona wonders as she’s soothed by the rhythm of the rail train as they travel west, into hill country, through long sweeping plains and valleys like little regiments on a table in a game of Risk. Thanks to some fast talking to a friendly train conductor she is relieved to upgrade to a hard sleeper berth. Farewelling the martial arts teacher is another exercise in martial arts.
“There is no bye, there is no why. Everyone is always one, no question.”
“No victory, no defeat, no accomplice or adversary,” Iona adds.
“No battle, no journey, no beginning nor end,” he continues.
“Nothing but martial arts?” she queries.
“Martial arts is nothing but love,” he answers and she smiles and walks away.
Iona wakes in the hard sleeper berth later, slowly becoming used to this unfamiliar form of travel she greets her colleagues in the cabin,
“Greetings. Beautiful day. I acknowledge the divine in you.”
She’s sitting idly, listening to the sound the train makes while it rattles over the tracks, when an old fellow offers her a flagon. Iona fills her vessel with the freely available hot water. Respects the company respectfully and enjoys a quiet brew.
An intriguing perception of reality she’s having glimpses of, pining for the pure land, a vision of happy communities inter-relating well. The most amazing thing that anyone ever told Iona was that they once spent three months practising the meditation of sitting in a room and being nice to people.
Travelling through large tracts of Cananga by train is sobering indeed. The reverse of escapism, it’s the reality check Iona needed to get an idea of the great wide World and understand that after all the talking was done and the calculations were made, everything boiled down to arable land and cultivated areas, which in turn added up to food on the table. She’s sure that even Darwin realised that abundance grew with diversity. Land with a greater variety of plant species would be more productive and stable than monocultures.
In Iona’s home country, endless pastures of cattle, wheat, timber, grapes, hops and tobacco dominated the horizon, however here in Cananga they’re remarkably more circumspect. Gazing out the train window across endless meadows of burgeoning and varied vegetable and grain production, Iona can see the humble sense that this form of food production makes and only wishes the Canangan people were well informed enough to steer clear of the current craze of GM meddling and chemical toxicity.
She also newly appreciates the importance ascribed to journeys of the like of Buddhist sages Atisha and Marpa the translator, in the 11th century, and Bodhidharma from the West, in the 6th century. These sages brought the mind gems into the wild. It dawns on Iona is just how valuable those Mahayana (Great Vehicle) teachings would have been in those times, and still are in these times.
Not long before flying, Iona remembers hearing a radio broadcast account of the East Celtrian famine 1932-3, when seven to ten million people died because their crops were seized to feed the neighbouring army. She’s also reminded of the verse relayed, that the villagers sang at the time, when they were too hungry to sleep:
’There is a tall hill,
and beneath it a meadow,
A green meadow, so abundant,
You would think you were in paradise.’
Koan’s old school buddy Henry has been encouraging him to look outside the square regarding options for the future. It’s Henrys’ old log cabin where he gets away from it all. Henry is a linguist, running translations on the side. He idolises Tolkien and is himself proficient in Sanskrit, Sumerian and Aramaic. He jokingly refers to English as a mongrel hybrid that never grew up. Adding that he meets most of his clients at annual UFO meet-ups, with his trade-mark grin
Henry is a realist, sporting a uniquely quizzical yet content expression that is almost comical. He’s the type of guy that disregards social conventions entirely and will tell anyone else exactly what he thinks of them and exactly why. This doesn’t endear him to many but a select few, who are brave enough to admit their own failings. Last employed as a substitute linguistics teacher, Henry had lasted until freely offering his year 10 students the following advice (which for posterities sake, he’d painted on the blackboard):
’Question everything. Understand that the current education system is a tool of separatism, secularism and blatant segregation. As aggressive as war and vindictive as debt, the education system offers false gifts in return for hoodwinking the conceptual and intellectual capacity of free people. The curriculum and syllables’ silly bus is a vehicle of propaganda and mind control that offers nothing but empty promises and fake rewards. The universe surrounding you is the only teacher you will ever need. Pay close attention to it and never lose your sense of wonder.’
Henry was a card. He couldn’t over emphasise to Koan how important it was to think outside the square. “From this moment onward you have to recognise there is nothing to leave. You are living the hillman wanderer archetype. For sure this has been pivotal for you but it was partially in opposition to the fake world of the overlay you left behind.” Henry shakes his head sadly. “I was there myself, in fact that’s why I ended up here, I searched for it – the hermit wilderness – Henry Thoreau casting out into the forest to be at one. But then again, the die was cast and my hand was forced as I was in a state of perpetual conflict against what can only really be called - slavery!!”
Koan is quite speechless and Henry pauses for a while.
“Dear Koan... our integral freedom is simply that – it’s not a matter of versus: we are inherently free no matter where we are or what we are doing!” Henry states clearly. “And no one - no human nor droid can stop us.”
“So the house doesn’t always win then?” Koan queries.
“Bingo!” Henry confirms, “on the one hand we’ve got infinity, universal holism and the power of one...” he trails off.
“Right”, agrees Koan, “supported by the maker of the cosmos....”
“... that naturally wants it’s inhabitants to enjoy the experience of freedom...” continues Henry.
They both laugh spontaneously then take a break to sit down and share a hearty veggie dinner. The spirit of camaraderie defining the atmosphere.
Afterwards, comfortably seated in the lounge, Henry advises Koan that he should create a new archetype from scratch. “Go forth and prosper! Take the reins of your dreams and expand your horizons!” Over a few drinks Henry and Koan go through some possible statements that might sell Koan in an interview. They end up with some weird lines and try to deliver them while keeping straight faces, as though they’re being interviewed. Both have a whale of fun laughing at the irony.
“A statement is a short series of random words that band together to form an idea.”
“The more ideas one can accumulate the more they give the impression of stating something meaningful.”
“Meaning is exponentially enhanced by waving ones arms around directly in time to the words they express.”
“The state have tried to commender statements by naming them after itself.”
“A state man is a corporate tool, a fool and a slave.”
“To state the obvious the best state to be in is a state of freedom.”
In high spirits, Henry admonishes Koan to disregard the whole razzmatazz. “Don’t think it’s an illusion, know it is! Comprehension is out to lunch on this one my friend. The essential spirit has no part in any of this distinction by name and form, none! Koan! Every new moment be fresh and be free, that is all we need to do! Of course it’s phenomenal love, what more could it be? None of this has any meaning, it’s just a humorous dance of freedom,” Henry laughs joyously. “A transcendence dance of non-duality. Beyond mortality and morality. The triumph is the spirit of this very moment - the effervescent present,” he smiles brightly.
Iona is standing in a space where there is supposed to be a bus depot. Since it took her a couple of hours to carry her gear to this out of the way spot, she’s feeling stranded, floating like a windswept leaf. The fact that her credit card is much lower on funds than it ought to have been, doesn’t help her state of mind either. Apart from not having an option b, the other minor hiccup is that Iona is the only person in the area that speaks ‘this language.’ Everyone else speaks another language, ‘their language,’ which they know of as “this language”.
Iona hears herself suggesting, ‘although you may be standing in the shadow of the sun on a street corner in a far off corner of the World, you just need to remember who you are, and be present. When you truly realise that your Infinite I is creating every experience for you, and when you trust that your Infinite I has your best interests at heart - then you can truly live in the moment, knowing your experiences are perfect just the way they are.’
Iona humorously recalls the day she decided to quit work and drift overseas, and laughs out loud.
A short while later she’s lucky to wave down a passing rickshaw driver going claptrap down some side street. Somehow Iona convinces him to take her to the actual bus stop for Tranquil Peaceful Mountain. The name of one of Cananga’s sacred, revered mountains works its magic and has a benevolent calming effect; for after looking as though he’d had other custom to bolt off toward, the driver calmly agrees to take her twenty minutes around the road, to the real depot.
Iona even has time to grab a quick snack of steamed, filled buns from an adjacent stall before motoring off toward the mountain on a hazy spring morning. All the seats in the bus are taken and 3 or 4 farming families fill the aisle. A small black and white television, by some scientific marvel, is linked up to a martial arts VCD.
For whatever reason, Canangans aren’t as fastidious about road maintenance as they are in the ‘West.’ The kids on the bus don’t let the bumpy road get in the way of their enjoyment of singing folk songs. The martial arts VCD garners some interest and there’s always a packet of First Under The Sun cigarettes close to hand. The cigarettes seem more mild and they’re relatively cheap in Cananga where they’re not taxed insanely like in the ‘West.’ Iona is aware that whatever else isn’t taxed heavily, is made up for by one extremely severe tax on land.
While Iona fans the tobacco smoke from her face with her hand, her farming friend shares, “Don’t worry about smoke”. Pointing to a couple of mobile phones that nearby farmers are busy tapping away on, the lady indicates, “those things are - problem. It makes Zombie, hahahahaha. The conversation eventually lapses and they both gaze out the window.
A bare foot farmer ploughs a wet paddock with two oxen. A cheerful group of workers with pickaxes are targeting medium sized rocks. A relaxed group of guys are picking up the rocks and carrying them in bamboo constructed packs across their shoulders to the roadside. A lorry sits idle by the pile of rocks on the roadside. Tombstones dot the hillside. Outside a lunch cart, a group of philosophical old men are sitting in a circle around a game of mah-jong. Kids are running about, nonplussed and carefree.
Such are the scenes of everyday life as Iona rattles on toward Tranquil Peaceful Mountain down this little road in western Cananga. She’s reflecting on most enjoyable morning walks around charming public gardens. Perhaps the most authentic glimpse of what life is really like over here. Groups of non-partisan locals, normally older folk, regularly congregating together to practice a series of gentle body movements for optimum energy maintenance.
Advaita
In a seventh storey hostel in Symphya city, Jayacedar, Koan listens to trance and drinks green tea delighted he has finally made it to new horizons having landed nothing less than a work contract abroad! He hadn’t been planning on going overseas, but Henry’s advice to try and create new opportunities outside the square was right on the money.
He reflects that it was probably his joking with the interviewers in a deadpan, I-could-care-less, entrepreneur-chic style that had secured him the job as a freelance strategic exponent.
It had all started with a casual conversation with a lost looking tourist outside a restaurant. The tourist fella had seemed inordinately happy to be talked to normally, about nothing in particular. Nothing led onto Koan’s divulging that although he had nothing going, it didn’t phase him. Koan thought life was great, regardless of whatever melodramas were the topic of talk-back radio these days.
The tourist was in some cagey entrepreneurial business, Koan gathered, his English wasn’t too bad, but it sounded like a complex sort of job. They’d talked about the weather and the headline news in Daily Lies and Propaganda, and that was that.
To cut a long story short, Koan had later referred to the website on the tourist’s business card. A blog about topiary and professional critiques of chess and roulette strategies didn’t reveal much but it was pretty high-tech. Koan e-mailed the guy on a whim and explained that he also knew a bit about gaming, and had a background as a freelance strategic exponent....
He’d been surprised to receive a convivial response. Following a few in depth e-mails, a hard-case session with Henry drawing up a CV, and a teleconference interview with three company partners, Koan got the good news. Before he knew it he was down at the airport with a complementary ticket waiting for the next available plane to Jayacedar.
He got to talking with the joker beside him on the plane as they ploughed through the pathless sky, and the stars swirled above and beyond. A ragged but spirited character, full of enthusiasm for the trip, and a new start.
“Back home we’re in lockdown mate, we’re stuck ... between one measly pay packet and the next, between one rent or rates bill and the next, clowns to the left us jokers to the right, you know how it goes.
These Jayacedar folks are at a higher rung mate – a few tiers up. Sure they’re still locked down in their own way. Just at a better level, he laughs. They’re tied up in etiquette and social conventions – a tighter matrix than you’ll ever see – but as a foreigner mate that’s how you can get above it. View life as a tourist does, make no mistake!
Look out there at the flocks of birds flying past mate, the schools of fish in the sea... those are societies mate. All moving together, going in the direction of abundant resources and enjoying the journey! That’s unity right there. Compared to the birds and the fish mate, we’re the most scattered bunch of mind controlled units in the galaxy!” he laughed hysterically.
Koan looked back across the skies and felt a nostalgic sense of infinite possibility as he silently acknowledged his ancestral homeland from the plane. Thankfully he had been able to negotiate a few weeks of acclimatisation leave, and a pay advance to help with settling in.
Symphya city is a buzz, the most massive metropolis he’s ever encountered. With so many people there is an energy of being rushed, being swept up in the movement of the crowd. Koan’s last couple of months was all careful planning and hectic preparation but he’s not feeling jaded for it. One of his first moves is to take a wander around the streets, and enjoy the new-found sense of freedom. Now that he’s over here, Koan’s trying to maintain a consistency of intention. That is, rather than get stuck in any dead-end duality cycle of this that and the other, his aspiration is to remain mindful of the unitary clarity of radiant clear light awareness. In a new environment he’s mindful to bypass any tarot card tourist deviations and view it all, like maritime law, for the illusion that it is.
Later that evening Koan finds a hip blues club across town and is enjoying a couple of quiet drinks while scrawling disjointed passages in his notebook. A khaki clad, tanned guy walks into the club, and bowling straight over to Koan’s table, introduces himself; “Greetings sir, I knew you were coming here to this place sir, and that our paths would cross now. It is the way of my people to know the unknown. My guides inform me that you need help to make an arrangement. I am at your service sir,” grinning broadly. What a character.
Koan laughs and shakes the guys hand, “You sir are the best darn drug dealer I have ever met. I take my hat off to you buddy but I am proud to be the cleanest camper in the club.”
“Sorry, I am but a wandering nomad, a refugee from the stars and a galactic voyager. Allow me to introduce myself, Alawi, at your service.”
Koan’s new buddy Alawi happens to know all the DJs in the house, and also has an unlimited tab. Koan and the barman travel halfway around the top shelf while Alawi gets up on the decks and starts ripping vinyl jazz compilations across classic trance collections and fusing them together with Taiko bass lines. Alawi introduces his entourage of local bohemian friends and the early hours of tomorrow turn into a wild dance hall extravaganza.
Alawi defies description or classification by contemporary terms. He exemplifies non-conformity in as nice a way as possible and doesn’t let anyone or anything phase him. The afternoon end of the night sees the bohemian locals, the barman, Alawi and Koan piling into a sleek station-wagon and heading off through the city. Not far into their trip, they’re pulled over by a circulating police car.
“Evening folks, just wondering if you knew you had a license plate light out sir?” the cop asks Alawi.
“You must be a very bored man my friend, you go around telling people about minor maintenance issues with their cars. Who are you and what is your business stopping me?” Alawi replies, not amused.
“Can I see your drivers license sir?”
“Are you insulting my dignity my friend? Can I see you dance on your head doing hola hoops? Surely you can go and find something better to do than accost strangers and annoy them with your banalities!”
“Your license plate light is not working,” the cop replies.
Koan watches amused as Alawi steps down from the drivers seat to confront the officer. Alawi takes the policeman’s hat from the officer, puts it on his own head, and switches from a slow and precise English to raving in fluent Jayacedrun.
Koan’s new bohemian friend translates the encounter with the fuzz blow by blow,
“Who do you think you are man? You think you’re cool wearing a police outfit do you? Who are you when it really comes down to to the crunch? Are you a policeman’s uniform are you? Hide under a hat and behind a badge do you? What I need for you to do my friend is to start talking to me like one honourable living being speaks to another honourable living being, alright.”
The officer, completely bewildered by the fluent Jayacedrun speaking Alawi, reaches out to take his hat back. Quicker, Alawi takes it off his own head so that the cop snatches thin air. Remonstrating, “try to remember you are not the uniform,” Alawi puts the hat back on the officer’s head, pulls the brow down over his eyes and says, “go and do some proper work. But please try to remember that 1. Good manners are important and 2. License plate lights are not.”
He steps back into the wagon grinning at Koan and shuts the door. After re-firing the engine, Alawi winds down the window and waves, “Bye bye Mr hat man. Bye bye,” then drives slowly down the road to the chorus of his bohemian crew mimicking, “bye bye Mr hat man,” behind him.
Alawi finds a cruising speed and continues winding his way through the Symphyan maze, on their way across town. After a period of silence, Alawi reflects to Koan that he’s just not into the blind police-state, militant authoritarianism that defines modern communities.
“I definitely got that impression,” Koan comments.
“Koan, if you had been to my country, you would know where my attitude comes from my friend.”
“Yes, I hear what you’re saying.”
“On the basis of some crazy make believe story they sent in a blitzkrieg to massacre my people,” he says slowly and deliberately. “In their extreme ignorance or helplessness, the greater majority of the Western public have allowed this to occur without a second thought, nor massive demonstration to throw down these conscienceless warmongers.
They continue on in silence for a time, before arriving outside a local cafe. Shouting the others breakfast, Alawi suggest to Koan that he has all the connections Koan will need to get by. Phone cards for 90% off international phone calls – countrymen that give big discounts at quality noodle joints – even a friend that was selling a car on the cheap.
“Anything that helps me to navigate this crazy maze for sure, let’s go!” Koan readily agrees.
Iona is joyous to reach the heady peaks of Tranquil Peaceful Mountain. Humbled by the mighty power of nature to manifest such things, she’s also conscious of a sense of crossing over to a shore beyond, where a new future of limitless potential awaits.
Iona’s grateful to have taken the opportunity to follow her intuition and is in a mood of crystal clarity. Rather than go to some ‘Western’ citadel of hedonism and extend her social circle, she had followed a pathless route that taught her who she was. This deep appreciation of non-local awareness signifies a vortex of meaning and reason to her.
The atypical nature of the popular tourist site cliches have not even fazed her. Crowds following their tech cameras around. Overpriced food and distasteful memorabilia paraphernalia. Iona however is immersed in such intrigues as the ancient monasteries and temples in the cloudy peaks. The 500 year old tree growing through a million year old rock with 1000 year old Canangan writing carved into it.
The Buddha left it entirely to the individual to reach their own apex. His teachings are said to be like a raft that leads from ignorance to insight awareness. By some natural synchronicity, Iona’s no longer wondering what on Earth it’s all about any more, something of a paradigm shift in her heart. She can sense the Buddha’s transmigration from suffering, founded in the correct view of mind as impermanent, selfless, and free from desire.
Her hike up Tranquil Peaceful Mountain is concluded the moment she plants the flag for Universal Peace the Canangan kid had sold her. Iona let it go and then there it was, a Universal Peace flag waving in the breeze alongside tens of thousands of other Universal Peace flags waving in the breeze near the top of Tranquil Peaceful Mountain.
Iona is feeling adventurous after the long winding climb down the countless steps. She wanders around the local train station considering what to do. She faces imminent visa expiry and has seriously low monetary funds. At this point she virtually bumps into a couple of traditionally clad monks who greet her warmly and ask which way she’s travelling? Not having any idea, Iona points randomly over yonder, west or south-west. Shortly thereafter, the juvenile Canangan and basic English exhausted, Iona and the monks part ways with well wishes for happy lives.
Iona decides that she has nothing to consider. She’s simply travelling. Thus she climbs aboard the next bus toward where she had pointed and ends up at a delightful alpine township in the mountains. Sure there is a tinge of sadness that the lack of funds means she can’t stay for long, but she’ll enjoy this unique slice of Nirvana while she can.
Iona can imagine the area as a romantic stronghold from days of yore, the crisp clear air lending to a sense of the magical. Maybe this is what it would have been like in the good old days in the Celtic hinterlands or the hills of the Indian Americas she wonders. She hitch-hikes a ride up another mountain and spends her last five coins on overnight lodgings to end up entirely pocket-less and entirely alone, standing stationary at first light near the peak.
One never knows what’s round the corner right? Iona’s stony broke, but hardly gives it a second thought. When Hillary and Tenzing got to the top of Mt Everest, she’ll bet that Hillary didn’t say to Tenzing, ‘what shall we buy for dinner tonight?’
Iona gratefully proclaims to the mountain peak that she’s full of gratitude to have made it here, and that she really enjoyed the white elephant temple especially loving the irony. The aurora-like new dawn sky lends a great joy as she simply stands experiencing the magnificence of being. Contemplation of her own impermanence is a wake up call. One day dies, another dawns, one leaf falls, another forms. The real summit is beyond. Coincidently Iona recalls the Zen master Hakuin’s great koan, ‘After you are dead, where has the main character gone?’
Later that day she receives the good blessing that her closest Canangan friend has been able to wire through a loan of enough cash to get her back on the eastbound bus for the city.
A couple of days and a couple of heartfelt farewells later, Iona’s remembering the journey from her pre-booked, pre-paid flight, high up over the clouds and the Mainland and appreciates a heightened participatory feeling in the act of flying. ‘What are the other passengers pretending to ignore?’ she laughs, ‘we are freaking flying!’
One memory is from the first morning, of the harbour bridge at the neck of the Nine Dragon River, and the timeless boats cruising along slowly in a mist filled dawn. Apparently the river was formed by the dragon of the golden star or maybe that was a myth? Dragons were particularly good at creating myths and especially adept at avoiding people, that much Iona knew. Maybe one day the dragons would reveal themselves from high beyond the skies on the way from quarters of the wild blue yonder humankind could only wonder about?
Travel has left her positively enthusiastic moreover than naively curious. Recollecting that the intention on leaving was not simply ‘go different places,’ ‘meet different people,’ ‘buy stuff’ - no, there was another level, that’s why she’d left, remember? Contrary to acting upon them, Iona now spends a lot of time just being aware of the various options cycling through the mind. ‘Wow, we’re really quite free to form decisions. How liberating!’
It’s the after-camp vibe between the comfort and surety of home, where everyone knows her name; and away, that transforming and transitional feeling of being on the road. Iona’s happily arrived where she’d been contemplative leaving.
She touches down in Jayacedar after joining the moon in her waxing orbit and being lucky enough to cruise past some of the tropic Celestial islands at daybreak. Iona’s travelled the length and breadth of the Canangan plains, visited the eastern edge of the mighty ranges from which the four mystic rivers spring forth, and feels as though she’s deep within a dream.
All the old car needs is a new bumper, grill, radiator, condenser and headlights. Alawi’s friend is happy to let the old Datsun coupe go for a song, and with a smile. He was liable for damages after careering straight into something far more pricey. The Sat-Nav had told him to turn right not left, into a one-way! Now he just needed to cut his loses.
Koan tries to follow the Symphyan traffic map but finds it rather arbitrary as the maze of streets spontaneously flow in all directions like spaghetti. Koan can’t fault Symphya for the authenticity of its navigational complexity. He arrives safely at Pick A Part City on the Symphyan docks. The Pick a Part City knackers yard stocks row upon row of nearly every type of vehicle imaginable. Thousands of various makes and models parked in chronological lines along the Symphyan port, glinting and shimmering in midday rays of sunlight. An ordered chaos of pre-loved vehicles that have been driven toward that elusive horizon for the last time. All finding their way to the car devotees shrine on the docks.
Half a day later, Koan’s got all the parts sorted and fitted. On the road again, Koan’s free to travel whichever direction he pleases but first he has to refuel… - also update the papers and cover the fees. The cold hard reality of the stone faced highway robbery tagging costs of basic living never ceased to surprise him. He considers road user charges and registration a pair of taxes that form, ‘the private yuppie fund for major utilities and general sloth.’ ‘Talk about a successful money laundering scheme,’ he frowns.
Koan’s company apartment is all but settled now, with the minimalist furniture that combines well with this part of the world and his ascetic lifestyle. The car has helped immensely for towing bulkier items like the table, mattress, and fridge. Koan’s checked out all the work documentation, dotting the i’s and j’s and crossing the t’s and f’s. He’s replied to the e-mails in the right tones dropping in the right honorifics at the right places.
Koan’s already explored the immediate suburb near his work. Discovered the good places to eat and buy English periodicals. He’s familiarised himself with the easiest route to and from the train station - that gives the sense of the day rushing past. He’s just heard the good news that it’s all systems go for launch on the job front, not that it ever wasn’t going to be but there’s always that sense of trepidation around vocation.
It’s been fascinating getting a taste of what an urban jungle is really like, the zoo syndrome and the hustle, sometimes the mind just zooms out and away from it all and everything... Face in a crowd. Solitary leaf of a vast tree... Small fish in a big ocean...
’Well, bless ones lucky stars,’ Koan thinks. He’d been hiking slowly along the highways and byways of this temporary existence and then, lo and behold, a choice little park appears before him. The sign confirms, the Perennial Gardens Beyond in fact. He’s struck gold because there’s a solid park bench sitting there vacant, plus he’s got his ‘Meditation, Exit Stage Left’ book with him, and the seat is privy to pristine rays of sunlight.
Turn left turn right, lose direction intentionally and rise beyond the sights and sounds of the Symphyan streets. Be free to be her, distinct from any contrived definition of being. Indeed, the here and now travels far beyond the there and then. Beyond the veil of pluralised multiplicity, the vast clear skies of peace illuminate everything. Although there may be the appearance of aimlessness, Iona’s awareness is infused with clarity, and she’s uncovered a wellspring of direct awareness that radiates.
In the Perennial Gardens Beyond Koan’s admiring a 400 year old cedar tree from a park bench. He knows it’s 400 years old because on the way to the seat, he read the plaque that declared the trees age. ‘What a strange experience for a tree!’ he reflects, ‘to see a city like Symphya grow out around it.’ Koan wonders how old the cedar would have been when it was first visited by a foreigner? This prompts him to contemplate discoveries in bio-resonance about the affinity of trees and humans. ‘Via electrodes and biofeedback plants can even play music! They energetically register interactions with humans!’
Iona passes a sign that says ‘Perennial Gardens Beyond’ and walks toward an old cedar tree in a quiet walled garden. She notices a casually attired guy sitting on a park bench. Koan’s heart skips a beat, or starts skipping quicker in some quantum entanglement mystery. Iona paces around the tree with a steady stride and her head held high. With a presence of universal conviction, thinks Koan, Iona walks across to the bench and sits down.
There’s not one word passed between the two almost as though a word would be laden and interrupt the luminosity of feeling. There’s a smile exchanged. Far away on the horizon, furthermore in his perception Koan notices an array of colours like lights blending, as though on an easel melting. Iona becomes conscious of a surreal orchestral rhythm, a melodious lounge sound, in the background. There is an interlude of silent clarity between the two of them that seems to extend well beyond the here and now.
They both laugh simultaneously. Laughter lightens the light atmosphere. Koan brings his mind away from a silent far off valley on a still, moonlit autumn morning and says,
“Hi there. Super day,” spontaneously grinning and thinking that was a better introduction than mentioning plants communicating.
“Sure is, I’ve just been wandering around,” Iona considers, and asks, “How long have you been here?”
“A long time less than that tree,” Koan laughs randomly and continues, “a fair while now. It would definitely have to be my favourite place!”
“You haven’t been to the blissful sanctuary of peaceful tranquillity then?” Iona laughs merrily and replies, “good place to be”.
“It’s the contrast that makes it.”
“Meditation, Exit Stage Left?” Iona comments, referring to the book that Koan’s holding, briefly recalling The Celestine Prophecy’s focus on coincidences at the same time asking, “Looks interesting. Would you recommend it?”
“It’s sound, simple, honest, good living you know, I rate it.”
“You mean like, not confusing doctrinal mumbo jumbo?”
“That’s a good way to approach it,” Koan confirms.
“The writer’s probably a broke transient.”
“If you tried to pay them, they’d probably refuse.”
“Whoever you are you’ve generated quite some luck my friend because I’m about to impart to you the five best pieces of advice I have ever learned. Are you ready?” Iona asks animatedly.
“Ready as ever,” Koan nods smiling.
“The best place to be, is happy.
Everything is money and money is nothing.
Focus on the good things.
There’s no hurry.
Spirituality is simple, spirituality is kindness.”
“Wow, that’s super information for sure!” Koan exclaims, jotting the list down carefully on the back cover of his Meditation book. “The simplicity of kindness doesn’t need to be complex at all does it.”
“I guess it’s whatever we make of it,” Iona replies happily.
Conversation wanders along and a mutual lack of prejudice means there are no obstacles to free communication. They just talk and the conversation flows without any particular direction. Now that Iona and Koan have hooked up, neither of them feel as though they have anywhere to go. A long time passes and the sun drops a fair distance in the sky while they chat like old friends on the park bench in the Perennial Gardens Beyond.
“It’s getting cold we should get moving,” Iona reckons.
“Five dollars says I can find us another free seat within half an hour!” Koan replies.
“Ok and if you don’t, we’ll go halves for a bought one alright,” Iona laughs.
“My people will talk to your people,” Koan grins.
“You’re funny. I know it’s an illusion and all, but what’s your name? I’m Iona,” she introduces herself.
Taking her hand, Koan smiles, “We’re similarly named emanations in an illusion,” and laughs heartily, “I’m Koan.”
They both get up from the bench as the afternoon approaches evening and walk back around the cedar. They feel totally comfortable with one another it’s difficult to believe they’ve never met before. A few blocks later they end up outside Chawu cafe and Koan says “Voilà”.
Inside the popular coffee bazaar Koan indicates the promised free seat and busies himself at a drinks counter, producing two tall glasses of iced coffee, with chocolate swirls and cinnamon straws. “Cheers,” he grins.
“The consumer is always right and steeped in high ethical principles,” Iona smiles joyously.
“A free seat that’s not a free seat,” Koan shrugs and drinks coffee, “consumers make the world go around,” he grins.
There is an exponential amount of stuff Koan and Iona think similarly about, like the healing power of herbal tea for one, and the illusory nature of time for another. They agree with each other across a wide variety of themes that encompass the relative mind and both appreciate that doesn’t happen very often at all.
Sitting there yarning, a rhythm of gesture and tone. More than happy to discuss ideas and opinions free of attachment or judgement about either. It’s good to meet someone so similar because it refreshes a worn emotional atmosphere. Just as tone works in tandem with gesture, words and ideas correspond succinctly with feelings.
It feels as though this is a rarity, one wants it to continue, to investigate it fully, one wants it to outlast their otherwise occurring monologue or transcend it, even transform them. If there were truly such a thing as a soul mate, wouldn’t it be nice if the stars had aligned, and both Iona and Koan had found one.
A few days later, Koan and Iona meet up again, this time by arrangement. Neither of them have thought too much about the coincidence or fate or whatever universal force or pure chance was involved with actually meeting the other, in a place the scope of Celestia. Does anyone actually think these details through though? Or is that where fate steps in and assures all lesser mortals that life operates according to methods in operation so far beyond our imaginings we could never conceive of it. Gives our little comprehensions small hints of what is so terrific and stupefyingly wondrous that by its very nature, we could never fathom it.
Koan and Iona meet up at the train station after talking on the phone. Koan had decided to make a clean break of it and just sell the old car. It had been a solid workhorse for moving into the apartment and getting to know the neighbourhood. However, parking cost an absolute fortune and was never available when you needed it. Besides, riding the world’s best public transport train system meant he didn’t have to muck around with those crazy parking buildings or spaghetti junctions.
Ever since the conversation in the park and the evening at Chawu, Iona and Koan had both been waiting for the phone to ring. Koan had been thinking about spiritual identity, or soul connection, and why it was that when we met certain people we had an immediate rapport whereas when we met others, it could feel as though there were few things in common. Iona had been wondering whether or not levels of connection didn’t just mirror levels of consciousness. Like wavelength corresponding to like wavelength.
The train station’s packed and Koan and Iona are soon standing in transit, holding the balancing rails and rolling out of the central city setting, relaxed with each other’s cosy company and camaraderie. A conversation sparks up promptly and there’s no sign of its intensity lessening nor any sign of either Koan or Iona as they disappear under the spell that is cast by like minds, the lure of similarity and affirmation.
The conversation continues to draw them closer together until all that remains is the echo of shared ideas and the chorus of caring that resounds and resonates beyond the immediate locality, and replaces the sound of the train whizzing along and the World floating past with the essence of harmony. They’re so captivated by a holographic wave of enchantment that the other passengers could all start chanting ‘Om Shanti,’ and it probably wouldn’t even register to Koan or Iona. By the time they’ve reached a nearby town, the time spanned by the mind greatly outweighs the small distance covered by the train.
Probably any place Koan and Iona arrived at in this frame of mind would be silver lined, because they’re both in the mood to recognise the beauty in the mundane; like the odd synchronicity to the worn out old shacks and legoland apartment complexes morphed into and on top of one another. The unusual beauty cast by the hazy toxic air lifting like a mist as the day clears into fine skies. They share infinite lifetimes and eternal spaciousness beyond the illusion of phenomena manifest. The sense of wonder they share has an unsurpassed clarity, like a glorious horizon from a mountaintop, and the endless sapphire sky.
Walking into a bountiful botanical gardens in a little town on the Symphyan outskirts, closely simulates arriving in a perfect frame of mind. After the heavy congestion of the city, the gardens are a tangible oasis, a tribute to the collective Gaia tradition that unites us. Holding hands while unhurriedly sauntering around the landscaped terraces and rock gardens, Iona and Koan share a similarly abundant place in the heart, an avenue beyond separation lined with star flowers, chrysanthemums and zingibers, heavenly scented frangipanis and other incomparable reflections of the cosmos.
It’s a fine day and they sit in an outdoor café sipping liquorice tea while listening to picturesque electronic melodies and sharing a peaceful silence. They’ve still got the art gallery to visit and they’re both quietly happy that her idea to visit the gardens for a day trip won out over his suggestion to go and eat veggie tacos in a popular blues club. Koan and Iona both feel as though upon finally arriving at the mountain hermitage they’d long since been travelling toward, a great friend and companion is waiting there to meet them.
They mutually decide to take the long way back and end up in an out of the way village in the late afternoon, nestled into a quaint little bay by the seaside, swapping tales of yesterday and dreams of tomorrow, especially sharing all that defines the freedom of today. Koan’s more than happy to have the free time to get to know Iona. He couldn’t be more grateful to the cosmic inconceivable that helped him arrange a few weeks acclimatisation leave from work, as well as a pay advance. Iona is finding that Jayacedar is much more geared up for foreigners than Cananga and plenty of the local contingent have a reasonable grasp of English which makes incidentals like work, trains and menus, that much more easy to negotiate.
Iona’s original impression is of the enigma that is Jayacedar. Traditional goods and customary attire, alongside business suits and technology galore. As her initial impression was big urban sprawl daunting, tower upon high rise upon tower, it’s super having a trip away to get a truer sense of the country. It’s hard not to notice the old World meeting new World theme, or be impressed by the exquisite architecture and jaw-dropping intricacy of decoration beyond the wow factor of the big city.
What Iona’s more accustomed to than Koan, is the general density of people, but what they both can’t help but be aware of, is the general sense of community and belonging that this contributes to. Perhaps this adds to a lack of inhibition in the early evening breeze as they curiously pop into traditionally designed Jayacedrun stores to smile inanely at the counter staff, repeat “Namaste”, and try out an assortment of compassionate Buddhist hand mudras. There’s smiles all around and the impression Koan and Iona are both partial to is one of a cohesion of heart around this coastal village, a firm sense of groundedness and essential at-oneness.
The sense of community goes well beyond words. It would be like trying to describe falling in love accurately. There seems to be an unwritten understanding that if the individual gets the idea, then cohesion is going to be the normal community experience. What is this forgotten Shangri-la village by the seaside amongst the broad trees under the cloudless sky, they don’t even know its name. It’s small things like people greeting and smiling, being generous with their attention. Litter is nearly non-existent and even the buildings are unusually clean! Is it a combination of all these things or are they just viewing the world through rose tinted glasses and being lulled by the hypnotic sense of harmony from being in each others company and away from city horizons.
Iona and Koan are both loving the intuitive feeling of camaraderie they share. Here is someone else that understands love is well beyond cognition and more about resonance. They feel almost as though they’re moulded from the same clay, that their universal self is the same.
The following weekend’s entertainment is a travelling festival that brings a high-tech crew of fun and fanfare to Symphya, and of course Iona and Koan are not going to miss it. Besides meeting up on every spare occasion, they’ve also been spending their spare time getting every last cent out of their phone contracts.
A couple of hard nosed highwaymen sell them tickets and Koan and Iona join a throng of merrymakers. Koan jokes that the pair of chaperones probably earned their granite faces from having to test out the festival rides. “Or they’re just Mafioso henchmen and the whole thing is a tax dodge and a smokescreen for the other trips they sell,” Iona laughs.
The festival’s feature truck supporting its main event is one solid infrastructure of steel that cranes up into the Jayacedrun night sky. Termed ‘Event Horizon’ the structure fixed upon the flat-deck bears testament to whatever one has to say about the flashings of humankind’s creative genius plumbed to serve their drive for entertainment. Already ablaze with a group of revellers, the Event Horizon cuts swathes through the night sky as it loops impressive 360 degree whirls, pivoting on an impressive hydraulic arm that reaches out from a central mast of solid steel. How the truck doesn’t move under the weight of the spinning space-cab one can only wonder. Light speeds quicker than a Ferris wheel, the Event Horizon is an assuredly mind bending set of steel cogs and hydraulics, a complete package of fun for all who dare to enjoy this metal marvel our ancestors would never have conceived possible.
Locked into place for the loop de loops, neither Koan nor Iona will be forgetting that ride any time soon. Rather than defy gravity, the Event Horizon channels her forces to a level normally confined to other parts of space far above the clouds, well beyond terrestrial hemispheres. Koan has a yogic experience of the formless nature of himself and the environment, uncorrupted by conceptual confusion. It is as though he is directly connected to the essential substance of nature and sees it interlacing all things in holographic harmony. Iona appears to him as pure light, the centre of a shining orb of brilliant clarity, resonating with inexhaustible light energy.
They share a pure and uncorrupted energy, a sense of unconditional space and a state of being defined by a complete feeling of happiness. They spend the remaining evening together with perceptions inundated by light. Unfathomable, multi-dimensional, vast and compassionate light.
“A job’s a job isn’t it, what’s a few little white lies on a curriculum vitae?” Iona laughs. “Anyhow, what language is curriculum vitae? I isn’t applying for a job in Latinia is I?” Iona laughs again.
“Just make sure you corroborate your exaggerations in the interview,” is Koan’s winning advice.
They celebrate her new-found employment with one last meal of rice and cabbage surprise. This time it wasn’t because they had to, but because they could, and hoped they wouldn’t have to again. They figure it’s just a psychological thing. If Iona repeats “I am going to enjoy the job and it is going to be fun,” while on the way to work, how could it be anything but?
Besides, after the reality check Cananga had provided, Iona has strictly philanthropic intentions and now realises the value of every last cent. A well intentioned ‘Westerner’ could really pull some strings for good Canangan folk! It’s a long term plan though; for now she’s back to the coal face, the unforgiving reality of earning a crust. Iona would rather just live life and enjoy living but a brief look around the place confirms that not many people have the luxury of doing that.
Anyhow, she’s ready for this. Her employers are going to be sweet. Iona’s going to be the most successful ‘foreign expert on inter-cultural multi-lateral corporate hierarchies’ around. Yes, as soon as she finds out what that means, she is going to be it. Bring on the work functions this is going to be fun.
Actually it’s just an exercise in patience. What a ho hum phiz kapow lot of bureaucratic nonsense it is being an expert on ‘inter-hierarchical foreign laterals and multi-corporate culture.’ A substantial proportion of the sector is hot air fanfare on the negotiation merry-go-round.
The conversation Iona has with her first ‘Western’ delegate prepares her for the worst. For Pete’s sake, at the end of the day she’s not one to generalise but for the love of God. He outlined no less than 23 areas of concern he had during previous dealings with staff in the Symphyan office! Not only that he explained quite clearly that it was a top down system, he had authority as a senior executive and the 3 previous foreign corporate novices had been stepped down on his account! Iona had to work hard to suppress laughter as the concerns included such inanities as spelling mistakes, putting a customer on hold, and serving a pint of beer with excess froth!
It seems there’ll be a fair amount of variety in the role however. Iona has to orientate a delegate from Celtria, and not being one for faux pas, begins in strict business fashion, with her best efficient-yet-congenial tone, “Ce n’est pa grave, indeed, it’s not a big deal I’m sure. Ha, yes, I don’t know how it works over there but out this way it’s all about etiquette of course, aperitifs and all that hor d’oeuvre banter when everyone’s waiting to get to the mains.
Now, in the case that you don’t have the faintest idea what they’re talking about, it’s a superb opportunity to smile and nod in complete agreement! And Mon Dieu, do do a crash course in body language - and be careful with company president types - you know the kind! Some of them will actually expect you to have your head lower than their head on all occasions hahaha! In general though, it’s laissez-faire on all fronts, except karaoke, you’ve got to sing Lennon, but no accents please! As far as presents are concerned, pot pourri’s a winner, and le chocolat éclairs if you can keep them on ice, very good mon ami,” Iona signs off, “au revoir,” without letting the delegate confuse her. She doesn’t mind the Celtrians, they’re just trying to be nice.
It soon emerges that her colleagues approve of Iona’s ability to delicately manoeuvre conversations with ‘Western’ delegates toward amicable and swift conclusions. There’s an unofficial rumour in the office that one older foreign diplomat had left off one of the hapless Symphyan staff in tears. He’d taken 3.5 hours to answer one question as he felt it necessary to give a run down on his country’s history in a game called cricket. Iona’s average of under 5 minutes on the phone with ‘Western’ delegates is worthy of a few hearty pats on the back and congratulations.
As far as the other interlocutors and locos that Iona has to communicate with around the show, her only comment to Koan is, “It’s bureaucracy gone mad – because bureaucrats are mad about money. Bureaucrats like money like lizards like flies.” Beyond that they try not to talk much about her temporary involvement in the wheel of lies, fraud and deceit that is foreign corporate relations. Suffice it to say, they consider that in terms of consciousness she is a trojan horse.
Koan maintains that whatever slave post we have, we will all be slaves until we can take the inequality and debt factors out of the money game, and bring banking and government back to the non-corporate public sector. His pragmatism helps Iona to fence off the mirage.
Outside of work, Iona looks forward to spending inordinate amounts of time with Koan. He’s off to work next week as well so they pre-book every lunchtime, evening, and weekend together without fail. Iona’s sure she will not let work impinge on her extra curricular life for a moment more than it takes to shut the office door. During the day she’s a jaded ‘multi-lateral cultural expert on inter-corporate foreign hierarchies,’ and that is the only time she can be drawn to discuss it.
Work is an eight hour shift. Five days a week. Outside of work, she does not speak about work. Outside of work she has one hundred and twenty eight hours left over to enjoy life! Iona’s stock response to anyone ever asking about work is that, ‘the first and only rule of proletarians is that by the ultimate measure there is no such thing as a proletariat.’
Koan’s a freelance strategic exponent, trading under code name b.k.t.w.r or in long-hand, black.knight.takes.white.rook. Koan hasn’t actually seen the tourist benefactor guy again, since being in Jayacedar. His last instructions were to deal with the 3 mysterious company partners. 3 casual, shady characters, probably high up enough to be invisible in this 21st century wilderness. Specifications and requirements relating to Koan’s project are arranged over speciality frappés and strawberry bagels in a Symphyan cafe.
Discussions are typically based around configuration tactics of a program that Koan’s working on a section of. He hasn’t yet gleaned full understanding of the program from the designers. It’s a complex chain and Koan gathers information relating to strategy on a need to know basis. What he does know is that the program involves chess, which is cool, he knows how to play chess.
Discussions with the partners, although related to Koan’s section, are often loaded with implicit, inferred and subtle rhetoric. The language barrier is largely superseded by their fluency, however after the meetings Koan often doesn’t have any idea what they’ve just discussed. Between the four of them there seems to be an agreed objective but divaricating methods with regard to its implementation.
Koan’s portion of the program is involved with designing systems that cover overall strategic advocacy and analysis of various chess manoeuvres. He needs to coherently unravel the feasibility of various deployment strategies depending on board situation and adversary skill. Martial arts philosophies are popular with the 3 partners, and Koan’s advised to avoid military tactics completely. “Let them lose, understand?” He is lead toward finding flaws in adversaries game-plans so that they self destruct.
The program needs to target weak points in adversaries’ systematic behavioural patterning across the board, so quick endgame strategies are avoided in favour of techniques that reveal flawed methodology and intention behind piece management and board organisation. Critically, Koan’s brief outlines recording opponents’ reaction capabilities and preferential manoeuvres across the whole spectrum of possible scenarios they might encounter. One arm of the company Koan’s employed by, invites selected operating systems into automated chess games with a 250 kg mainframe hub in that wing of the office.
The 3 partners are particularly interested in bishop, knight and rook influences. Koan is assigned to the daily project of fine tuning their attack and defence combinations rather like one might fine tune the rhythm dynamics between the drums, lead and bass.
The job’s okay. 3 times free speciality frappés and strawberry bagels every week. Chess to fill in dreary week day afternoons. A somewhat unclear objective that involves chess as a cover to investigate criminal base system programs, fraudulent database networks, mainframes and a stack of ambiguous programming languages.
Koan’s drawn these obvious conclusions from repeated inferences by the 3 partners and detached analysis of the data. He understands that for whatever reason the 3 partners have to be a little bit evasive about the finer details. If he’s caught up in some kind of bizarre covert operation that’s way beyond him he considers himself ethically absolved. If he wasn’t charting the data flow of loophole laden strategies and ill advised intentions that pushed pieces around, somebody else would be. Ultimately he considers the core fundamental for the countless freelance exponents out there, one of balanced enhancement and facilitation. He’s always considered the microcosmic work as a holographic part of the wider macrocosm. Koan also views work as something of a game in any case, so the current project is no major philosophical extension.
Obsidian black pieces laid out in defensive formations across from ivory white figures advancing strategically on a four dimensional marble chessboard. The operation’s run on a need to know basis only and everything is classified. It reminds Koan of kids playing make believe games in the school yard.
Even though Iona doesn’t speak about work, she still has to go there. She typically rides the 6.42 because for some reason it’s slightly less congested than the 6.47. She enjoys trying to skip through the subway gates without paying, not because she’s a rebel, only a non-conformist who refuses to accept a gravy train poverty of mind. It’s her little stuff-the-matrix automation routine.
The trains are often standing room only, eyes of introversion in the daily confusion of public commutation. Sometimes Iona notices a down heeled, weather baked farmer standing by the window looking into the jungle of stone monoliths one beside the other, shrouded by many coloured cloaks of neon. Iona notices lots of solitary figures in the crowds staring out as if into nothing and occasionally wonders if she doesn’t cut a similar impression on space herself, then sighs.
It’s during times like these that the mind flashes back to Cananga and the more relaxed pace of life over there. One time Iona realises she has stopped walking and is just standing there still by the station. It’s one definitive lesson on perspective, the reality of commutation in the metropolises.
The ride home’s exponential times more fun than the ride there, especially considering Koan will be standing there grinning, leaning against a pylon at the station. Daytime is a battle, night time is winning it. The night hones in quickly in the big concrete jungle. The sky’s transformed from liquid blue through deep purple to a deep set, velvet black in a background of sparse stars.
There’s a nocturnal side to the city Iona experiences some of, with Koan in tow, the two of them merging into shared experiences of community and consciousness. Most people sleep, while others dance to beats and traipse tracks around city streets as the stars drift slowly by. Venus and Mars transmigrate the happenings beyond the reflections of rain water pools and tinted windows, beyond all conjecture, far above the urban canopy.
According to the meditation teachings Iona learnt, one of the things required is ‘a basic understanding of phenomena as illusory and selfless - a display of the clear light nature of mind.’ Illusory in the sense of perceptions merging into a symbiotic freedom from separation, beyond the cycle of this that and the other. Selfless in the sense of words, concepts, thoughts and ideas fading out and failing to describe or come close to the glory of the mystery beyond.
Recognition of the indescribable illusion of manifestation and acceptance of the selflessness of self is a completely transformative transition. Iona’s world is reborn when there is no separation, there is only Universal Spirit, whose grace permeates all things and all places. Her essential abiding is peaceful and joyous, at oneness, essence bliss consciousness. The immortals have walked through the door and invite all, knowing themselves as pure transcendence. Everything relinquishing within and without, Iona has complete confidence in the essential beyond. Any doubts and queries have faded out as it is just what it is, and she is a completely free agent.
It’s just plain logical for her to recognise non-exclusive equality with other beings throughout the universe on a prima facie level. Just because all is not quid pro quo on Celestia and things can be unfair doesn’t predetermine a thing, as the one thing we share that can not be denied is the integral sovereign nature of being. The universe is whittling us all down step by step and come what may the universe will take the game. Far more amazing than finding a shade tree in an arid savannah, discovering her favourite song, or finding that buyer to free her from the mortgage; is the fact that Iona is at one with the infrastructural essence of all that is.
We’re all part of a natural compilation of extraordinary occurrence and coincidence, in union with this celestial galaxy of phenomenal wonder. The supra energetic quantum field encompasses and provides for all, Iona’s happy to bet on it and is totally over convention and contravention. Iona believes in a wider social renaissance as a result of collective innovation, and that the power of communal transformation is actually happening in the here and now. What evidence does she have for that? About five thousand conversations with different individuals committed to the cause of living as freely as possible, dedicated to sharing knowledge and virtue, gifting time and energy, assisting financially and charitably, at will, where possible, out of pure joy and compassion.
Iona agrees that there is a cold front tracking north-east, some 70 miles off the coast of Jayacedar at the moment, on the condition that she believes in her fellow humans, and the benefits of technology these days. Iona feels that a holistic transition to societal freedom; from feudal tyrannies of days gone by, the sting of the militant whip, and oppressive corporate and religious based, political and economic ideologies; is possible, to bring the planet into proper vibratory frequency with the benevolent universe. Sure, this pole shift of consciousness hasn’t made the news broadcast yet, because they broadcast bad news as a priority. ‘Let them have their illusion,’ she thinks, ‘I’ll be focusing on the good news.’
Koan and Iona are both happy that there’s nothing they’re unable to discuss.
“What’s the point discussing conceptual opinions about absolute concepts anyhow?” he comments. The sound of the two of them laughing reverberates above.
“So what’s this new code they’ve got you working on?” Iona asks.
“We can talk about work?” Koan queries humorously.
“I have clearance,” Iona replies, deadpan.
“Okay then,” Koan smiles, “the code takes for granted that the quantum forest or the great spirit underlies all phenomena. Thus communications and activities that align with this essential blueprint code, which encompasses countless frequency spectra are harmonious and follow natural universal cycles of balance.”
“So it’s intuitive and telepathic?” Iona queries.
“Definitely! Think of the holy spirit and take away any religious trappings!” Koan replies. It’s along the lines of basic interconnectedness theory codified,” he continues.
“It’s advantageous for my employers as it enables them to isolate malignant or malicious lines of strategy then feed them codified data that helps them get back into line with source rhythms. The thesis is that there is a flow to an expansive inter-galactic and inter-dimensional river and every species on the planet is influenced by this. Of course chess strategies are competitive. That is their nature! Our code can read if they’re divergent from or aberrant to universal nature however! It aims to isolate those mutated frequencies that have twisted channels of source energy, and offer them strategies to become compatible and fall into line with the way.
I guess you could say that the code is designed according to a universal blue-print and hence it negates frequencies foreign to it. Essentially the code is designed to combat mutant waveforms and neutralise their toxic potential on a quantum basis, or transform them into universally compatible forms. That’s the basis.”
“So basically it’s a codified version of universal intention.” Iona comments.
“Sure, but with the martial arts philosophy firmly in mind, the code is only used in self defence. In accordance with ‘the way’ it’s able to shield against malicious frequencies. Plus it can assist transformation of forms to bio-compatibility,” Koan says.
“Aha,” Iona smiles, and raise her eyebrows.
“Between you and me, what it involves is the view of subject and object as transient and transparent. The external objective and internal subjective are essentially one. Hahahaha, it’s as though the universe manifests its sense of humour through us,” he laughs.
“The code can read linguistic data as well as digital or electronic stuff, it can translate. In the sense we think, it’s multi-lingual. Verbs are pivotal and often used as proper nouns that are arbitrary, genderless, and neutral as passing clouds. The code’s given up on innuendo for adjectives - prepositional and semantic fixation for silence. The verb is used in a somewhat sacrificial sense. The code treats the verb as doing itself, not the subject being the verb. That is, it considers verbs without attachment or dependence. They are neither subject to an external objective nor objects of an internal subjective.”
Koan laughs again. “A code that deals in paradoxes. It’s fun stuff! I guess the three partners got bored with data analysis and strategic behavioural theory. I look at the code as an antidote to a falsity. Of course waveforms and strategic data can be designed to mimic, tricky bastards, but just like a trained gem identification expert, the code shouldn’t have any problems spotting the frauds.”
“Affirmative,” Iona chuckles. “Sounds legit. Any idea what time it is, by the way?”
“Hahahaha, time’s no longer relevant, it’s a whole new playing field,” Koan replies. “The internal subjective is meant to be in a state of balance with the external objective!”
“Hmm. Reckon we make a move eh,” Iona smiles, and they head out onto the pavement arm in arm.
A new crescent moon reflects the late evening sun in a brisk twilight.
“The parody is that the stars are still there in the daytime,” Iona grins.
“So are the religious leaders of state,” Koan laughs.
“Without context, creation is imagination,” Iona responds rhetorically.
It seems like it’s fate that they met each other. It seems like that but feels closer to the truth is that it’s destiny for them to both experience true love. If it could be ascribed to anything, they’re a form of universal consciousness expressed in each other. True love’s a manifestation of intention.
Are Koan and Iona ready to be swept out of the way by love? On the one hand it’s excellent like promises kept or dreams come true; on the other it’s unexpected, like a friend just out of jail turning up at the door.
Neither of them need to refer to it directly, the transformation into butterflies, as their hearts spread their wings and embrace the great expanse beyond. The union is not to oblige the other, rather to allow them the space to face new steps of change. To afford them the freedom to reach their own summit.
For a while recently Koan and Iona have been discussing homeland. It’s similar to reflecting about a relationship with the most precious person in their life. It’s the last time for a long time either of them mention what is too much part of the heart to easily share. Even though it only takes a small segment out of the day, it’s the high point of the year, and similar to the lofty, true love, in stature.
To cut a long story short, Iona and Koan consider all land sacred whether it’s homeland or not. The collective ancestral traditions based their lives on a fundamental connection with the natural world. Things such as sustainable solutions and renewable resources were second nature. It’s a small World full of abundant potential and bounty. Proactive neighbourhoods and community based sharing have been the backbone of the human species since ancient times. In essence we are a force of omnipotent integrated holographic unity forged with the intrinsic holistic synergy of the natural World.
Koan and Iona affiliate homeland with universality and abundance. Mountains, meadows, gemstones, gold, mineral laden valleys, plains and plateaus. Ocean riches and abundant coastlines. Forests, marshlands, vast tracks of herbaceous varieties. Freshwater lakes and rivers, countless species of unimaginable flora and inconceivable fauna.
Homeland is a place one identifies with so strongly it can feel like their very identity, the real roots of their being, their actual self. The further Iona and Koan have travelled from their homelands, the more they understand that this same identification with land feeling, is common to all. They agree that an innate unity with the eternal horizons and infinite terrain that houses us, throws down the fake wall of nationalism and exclusive identity to a quarter acre plot.
As Koan and Iona discuss over a pot of peppermint tea in a busy lunchtime Chawu, intrinsic human experience exemplifies the simple spirit of freedom, not from anywhere else, just true freedom. Surely the further back in history we go, the closer our common stamping ground gets. Two foreigners sitting in a foreign café yarning? Why the nominal segregation? Two foreigners, sitting there, foreign to where? It occurs to Iona and Koan that the very idea of nationalism itself is based on a mammalian, territorial and self-referencing ego. Hence nationalism is by its very nature a separatist or even racist doctrine! One that is particularly promoted through the promulgation of sport as a team and individual based activity, rather than a collective one.
Koan and Iona agree that the collective economic struggle affecting all Celestial homelands is an unnecessary anomaly based on separatist ideas. The very idea of one currency being stronger or weaker than another is a contradiction in terms. The idea of currency being controlled on a debt-basis by a private corporate sector is criminal. For most Celestial folk, it’s subsistence at best, contrary to Celestia’s natural state of bounty.
Koan and Iona consider that the natural bounty of the land – the Earth Mother – is of course, enough. They consider it a great testament to the failings of their race that this abundance could be so misused. For a start it’s widely recognised that organic poly-culture crop growing is a far more efficient use of land than livestock farming. Furthermore applied ethiculture offers base-level harmonious integrated living, that could be leveraged to prove we live in a paradisical realm.
It just so happens that Jayacedar is currently centre of attention on the Celestial stage as the venue for the triennial World Cup of Philanthropy. Symphya, one of Jayacedar’s most prodigious metropolises has started to fly off the handle as the World Cup of Philanthropy tournament begins to progress into full swing. Work routines are interrupted as meetings are cancelled and staff call in sick, trains keep to time but consumers are off schedule and tourists add to the chaos as the city takes on a carnival atmosphere. Next to Jayacedruns they are a rag tag bunch and mingle aimlessly in the streets, an alien array of fashions, customs and characters. Symphya’s an electronic planet anyway but this month there seem to be even more glam lights, neon signs and glitzy decorations.
Far from the midst of the thicket, Iona and Koan get away from the daily Mardi Gras atmosphere, and work, where possible. In one of the quieter suburbs, at a picnic table under the canopy of a luxuriant shade tree in a cafe garden, they share a pot of spicy chai tea.
Iona asks, “Have you been experiencing homesickness then?”
“Sure,” Koan replies sighing. “But I’ve got a great antidote. You’re my antidote to everything,” he smiles.
“Indeed,” she grins. “Travelling around Cananga and meeting folk not swayed by the trappings of the ‘West’ was my antidote,” Iona says wistfully.
“Bet they weren’t homesick,” Koan laughs humorously.
“Hah, yes,” Iona agrees. “Like hobbits that don’t go beyond the borders of the shire.”
“That trip changed your life hey.”
“Yeah, and it definitely changed my mind. They were just so relaxed and beyond the Western ‘I-Am- A…” identity loop. Now I can really say, “I am infinite awareness. I am an eternal soul. I am compassionate mindfulness. I am essence bliss consciousness. I am a universal nomad on a holographic journey,” Iona declares with open arms.
“A minor shift of the goalposts then.” Koan grins. “What my experience back home drifting through the bush taught me was to transcend is being a victim of circumstance.”
“That’s a definite Koan. Whether the root cause of victim mentality is the sin doctrine or genetic manipulation by ancient ETs, we can really only deal with the present! The ripples a frog made jumping into the pond a long time have already reached the edge,” she maintains.
“Yes indeed,” Koan agrees. “If humans could just take the tag out of the ear marked, ‘tagged,’ and at the same time get rid of the label labelled, ‘labelled,’ then we’d be getting somewhere!” he laughs.
“Profound,” Iona comments, “but consider the Zen poem”;
Thus shall ye think of all this fleeting world
A star at dawn, a bubble in a stream
A flash of lightning in a summer cloud
A flickering lamp, a phantom, and a dream
“Now that is profound,” Koan pauses, absorbing the essence and the stillness. “Beyond ‘who cast the first stone?’ We’re better to contemplate ‘from what was the first stone cast?’”
There’s a long pause while Iona and Koan hold each others gaze in some form of impromptu silent prayer, then get up and leave.
The train trip home’s about half an hour and as it’s just gone dusk, it’s much quieter than usual. Iona and Koan hold hands unusually tightly as the city rushes past. After the dinner conversation, almost nothing is spoken, barely a word. From the other end of the carriage the strong strains of a classic old Jayacedrun song are being belted out by an old guy in a suit who’s had his fair share.
There’s enough left over from Koan and Iona’s combined pay packets to get away from Symphya’s hubbub of noise and congestion during The Philanthropy World Cup. Of course they love philanthropy for sure, but the World Cup brings wave after wave of 10s of 1000s of fans to the city.
It’s also become obvious that there are two types of philanthropy - Genuine & Fake. The fake philanthropists generally have a favourite charity they donate to as a PC PR exercise. On further investigation that charity is typically a money laundering scheme or doubles as an investment or bank account for unethical companies that often set-up as a religious organisation just for the tax breaks. They love the popularity they receive as “philanthropists” and use the pretence of sharing money as a method for buying fans. The ethical principles around how that money was originally acquired does not concern them at all. The worst type of fake philanthropists use fraudulently acquired profits to crank out destructive, morally bankrupt projects such as medical misadventure. They promise to feed the world and are invested heavily in words ending in ____cides. They promise to save the world but believe that is achieved by intervention in carbon-oxygen ratios.
In the case of genuine philanthropists however, the more money that runs through their accounts, the more they’re able to feed into the creation of social services, ethical charities and not-for-profit companies that serve the public good. Genuine philanthropists stand out as honest businessmen who operate according to natural principles of abundance and fair trade. Their authenticity is based on legitimate benevolence and communally beneficial standards. This group stands out from the sharks because they see supply and demand as a win-win situation not as an opportunity for exploitation.
Koan and Iona are in the standard majority of ordinary folk who have philanthropic intentions, but can only just afford rent, food and basic expenses. If they won the lottery, they would make great philanthropists. People like Iona and Koan keep the spirit of genuine philanthropy alive by sharing everything they own as if nobody owned anything.
Dozing on the express train, Koan contemplates the truth that the great guide of all philanthropists is Mother Nature who contains an unmatchable power of generosity. An excursion with Iona out of the big city toward mountain gorges and rushing rivers in the wilderness is a welcome reminder of that. It is quite alien to Koan’s mindset how humans could possibly have thought it was sensible to cut nature out of their design plans when building cities!
Iona recalls Cananga nostalgically as the train whizzes through semi-urban, then rural terrain. The wheels spin under her feet and the journey of pure contentment with life rolls around her mind. They sail through a couple of provinces and are treated to a flying birds view of modernisation morphing into its’ roots of vegetable fields and straw roof shack villages. This part of the country would have been well familiar with the wandering shaman masters of old and one would guess that if they were around today, they’d still point the finger at the psyche itself as being the only true source of progress and advance in this floating World.
A well-weathered old couple on the train strike up conversation with Iona and Koan, in English spiced with Jayacedrun and plenty of smiles. The old woman alternates between shaking her head and chuckling while the old man, Lao Tsu, expresses a full spectrum of emotion without saying much. They both have humble dispositions and a rainbow like luminescence to their demeanour.
Toward the end of a wide ranging conversation interlaced with verbal misunderstanding yet emotive adherence and full of laughter, Lao Tsu becomes somewhat philosophical.
“How long do you think it takes you to have a thought Koan?”
“Sometimes about half an hour,” they all laugh. “Maybe an instant?” he queries. Iona and the old couple laugh.
“How many thoughts do you have in a day Iona?”
“The word ‘thought’ is too heavy. I’m a being of feelings. The heart generates a stronger rhythmic electrical signal than the brain. A thought is like focusing on the colour of one flower in a meadow and not comprehending what it actually feels like to be in a meadow surrounded by flowers!” Koan and the old couple smile heartily.
“When you walk down the road how fast are you moving?” he asks Koan.
“It depends on where I am going,” Koan grins.
“How fast do you go in the car?” he asks Iona.
“Anywhere up to 150 kilometres an hour,” Koan interjects and laughs.
“How fast does the express train go Koan?”
“Faster than the bus! Where are you going with this sir?”
Lao Tsu chuckles and asks, “how fast are we travelling toward death?” then laughs in the highest amusement, nodding and gesturing as though something profound has just happened. His wife sits there smiling serenely.
Koan and Iona grin with shared intrigue and nod to acknowledge the point the old man is making.
Lao Tsu continues, “I learnt English during a short time in the ‘West’ many years ago, where I saw the tragic way they related to death. The morose service and ritual, where everyone wears black. I thought it was so strange. We are all racing toward death and then it arrives and everyone pretends to be surprised and acts shocked and so sad?” His wife chuckles again. “It’s as though they’ve been trained to think the physical life is the only thing there is. Like a motorcar that is finished with and never drives again!
But then the service contradicts this and speaks of the soul or the spirit. So what are the tears and the gloom for? The soul or the spirit is going free on its journey. This is an occasion for happiness for that spirit. It is a celebration for the beautiful harmony between the spirit, the Earth, the sky and the cosmos. For the wonderful expression of the character of spirit they shared with us and the lineage of love they have expressed.”
Koan and Iona hear well what the old man is telling them and nod in tacit agreement.
Koan expresses, “Yes it’s a strange tradition sir, thank you for sharing your impressions with us. What more can we say.”
The old man smiles and nods, while his wife has a nostalgic expression.
Lao Tsu concludes, “We’re just like flowers on the cherry blossom trees. We manifest as an expression of the essence of nature then drift off into the primordial forest.”
They have progressed well into an area of picturesque and majestic mountains when the express train rolls into transit. Grateful for the shared friendliness, Iona and Koan take their leave of the old couple and head off toward the mountains on a smaller train. The surrounds are so different from around the Symphyan sprawl, they may as well be in another country. Iona’s reminded of the Tranquil Peaceful Mountain area in Cananga and Koan is looking out across at the mountains just sitting there, wistfully impressed by their presence and fondly remembering a book called Soul Mountain by Gao Xingjian.
In a refreshingly calm and clear afternoon they take a walk around some forest clad hill tracks in a vast conservation area and stop in a cavernous tree clearing beside a crystalline lake. The light filtering through the sparkling tree leaves is a tangible blessing. The early evening lends itself to companionship and even the birds and cicadas fill the air with sounds of shared praises. Iona and Koan share the space as if they belong. They rest naturally for a long while, sitting on ancient tree roots, and shelter in a state of tranquillity.
They share the same comfortable acceptance as when they first met in the Perennial Gardens Beyond. They feel as though they are at home. A light drizzle begins to fall and the lake surface shimmers mystically. Countless microcosmic waves of water synthesise a dynamic energy. The whole atmosphere is vibrant as though creating space. The water hums, the light sparkles and the air sings to the elemental Earth. They share a story in clear, even tones; together with the vitality of the lakeside forest clearing. They share a story with the Earth and sky, the trees and lake beyond. They listen closely to the essential nature of space and experience the mystery of being here together.
Consciousness Manifest in a Quantum Forest
Belonging to the Nature of Being
Surrounded by the Love of Creation
“If there was anywhere you could settle down and live a peaceful life Koan, where would it be?” Iona asks quietly.
It doesn’t take long for Koan to reply contemplatively, “Apteryx – a real gem of a place. My family holidayed there a few times when I was a kid.”
“Apteryx...” Iona confirms. “You hear lots of people rave about the place. So you reckon you could make a go of it there?”
“Without a second thought!” Koan smiles. “I’m sure I’d feel right at home there surrounded by the Ocean. The place we holidayed was highland outback wilderness country. Power was all solar and waterwheels and the atmosphere was just magic. Everyone lived off the land, growing and sharing produce, that was just the way things were done.”
“Sounds fantastic, just promise me one thing Koan.”
“As you wish.”
“Make sure you take me with you when you go.”
After a refreshing sleep in a classical Jayacedrun inn, and an immersion in the relaxing spa benefits of a traditional Jayacedrun bath, Iona and Koan prepare to carry on touring. The naturally fresh feeling of the woven fibre floors, handmade furnishings, and decorated sliding doors, contribute to a feeling of unity with the natural provisions of the planet. Breakfast is a long and unhurried harmony and a couple of well-brewed native teas are a fitting send off from the conservation lake area and the traditional inn.
They join a small tour group to a Zen meditation temple on the way back to Symphya. The natural-flow style gardens, that house many Buddha statues, are exquisite examples of biological balance, and comprehensive lessons in feng shui. In the entrance hall, Koan and Iona admire some graceful calligraphy and appreciate the complex pictorial or hieroglyphic elements of this ‘Eastern’ language. At least 2000 or so base characters in their main alphabet would seem to allow for far greater cadence and subtlety in nuance than 26 stubborn and simplistically crude English letters.
They get a brief bilingual run-down on the extensive and popular Lotus Flower Teachings. As far as they can understand the essential message of the scripture is that Buddha nature is the basic nature of all beings. This nature is a Buddha-type personality and a clear mind paradigm. If one realises their true (Buddha) nature, it becomes their naturally liberated state of being. There’s all sorts of parables that relay the gifts of virtuosity and ways around recognising this integral truth. The Lotus Sutra also promotes the development of altruism, and sharing of Buddha-nature.
For the next hour or two they meditate in the main hall. Koan sits and ponders the paradox, ‘If Buddha-nature is ones true state, why would they need to become it?’ Rather a contradiction in terms that doesn’t surprise him where religion is involved. He eventually relaxes and sits in a space of bright quietude.
Iona sits there considering how bizarre it is to hear descriptions of integral human nature translated from another language and chuckles at the uncanny irony. She also considers it ironic that integral human nature is dressed up as the nature of some guy called Buddha - a representative of the collective pure light being archetype. She wonders where the female equivalent of Shakyamuni Buddha is and why they are not at the front of every temple for people to face and bow to? She also finds it unusual that one Buddha being is representing an archetype that all beings share!
In the background behind the Buddha statue and flowers with candles and incense all ornately laid out is a large watercolour painting depicting a revered Zen scene. It mentions it in the temple hand-out, in English as well. On Vulture Peak in India, in the midst of a vast assembly of beings, Shakyamuni Buddha held up an uḍumbara blossom and blinked. His disciple Mahakashyapa smiled. Then Shakyamuni Buddha said, “I have the treasury of the true dharma eye, the wondrous heart of nirvana. I entrust it to Mahakashyapa.”
Later strolling around the grounds, Koan and Iona have an opportunity to talk relaxedly in the peaceful gardens.
“These gardens explain that Lotus teaching down to a T,” Koan exclaims. “In the beginning they seem like amazing mirrors of the wild, reflecting the micro-climate, microcosmic patterns of plants and minerals and water perfectly,” he pauses. “Then when you see them in a new light, they are too precise, too ordered, and exact. It begs the question, why have they tried to replicate the balance of the wild without incorporating the essence? Why not just go and meditate in the wild?”
“Yes strange isn’t it,” Iona agrees. “The pot calling the kettle black. ‘Ladies and gentlemen. This artificially contrived garden with hardly any plants represents a natural garden! Here is a perfect figure that all must aspire to. He is a male but he represents perfect mind for a female as well. But what can I say - most religious traditions are a veritable litany of oxymorons,” she laughs.
“It is quite the rabbit warren indeed!” Koan agrees. “Let’s explore deeper as the rest of the tour group will be a fair while yet.”
“We haven’t got anything to lose!” Iona replies.
“We have to start with evolution theory, the holyist of the holys,” he grins sarcastically.
“Hahahahah,” Iona smiles. “Advanced megalithic sites like Gobekli Tepe, around 12,000 years old, and a possibly 26,000 year old pyramid, Gunung Padang have debunked all that!”
“You’ve done your research!” Koan smiles
“The main trouble with evolution theory is it forgets to mention the missing link, mushrooms!” Iona laughs.
“Hahaha yep – the flip side of the coin is gods/elohim created us. You could swap out gods for anunnaki, archons, devas, and ancient aliens – although the later is likely some psy-op with a mega budget ever since Huxley wrote war of the worlds. The elephant in the room is of course were they benevolent or malevolent?.
“Ha! Yes. The verdict of advanced ancient civilisations across the realm is unanimous. Whether they were built by super-humans with spaceships, inter-dimensional travellers, flying godlike beings, giants or E: all of the above - is for us to wonder at. In any case the evidence agrees, gods descended from the skies, or ascended from the depths. Humans came next,” Iona states.
“Sure,” Koan agrees. “Humans across the realm share similar myths - aka truths - about being shaped by beings from the stars & heavens or from earthen depths & oceans. They established law, knowledge, agriculture, and social order. Prior to that there was a golden age. The question remains whether the gnostics were right and the fall brought in the malevolent. Whether shamans such as Credo Mutwa see it accurately when they speak of the intervention of a hierarchical reptilian force rather than a god-like force.”
“Yeah all our ancestors were created to mine gold isn’t that how that narrative goes? Even in the Illiad and Odyssey, Homer mentions gold as the “glory of the immortals”. Since early history, throughout cultures, gold has not only been associated with wealth, but with the gods, and with immortality!! Early civilisations equated gold with gods and rulers, and gold was sought in their name and dedicated to their glorification.
Koan agrees. “In Tolkien’s Hobbit, the dragon sat on the gold under the mountain.”
“Are these mythical dragons a nod to dinosaurs or what? Let’s not forget the innumerable tellings of humans and dinosaurs co-existing! I’ve even seen photos of human footprints alongside dinosaur paw-prints.” Iona exclaims.
Look to be honest nothing would surprise me. “There’s the pyramids found deep in the oceans. The mystery of Machu Picchu, Easter Island, Stonehenge. The 100s of 1000s of ancient circular stone ruins in Africa. Adam’s Calender. The standing stones all over Europe. The Nazca lines. The Piri Reis Map drawn from space. The Indian Vimana spaceships or the countless ET and astronaut cave artworks around Celestia. And obviously…. Pyramids – Cathedrals – Temples - Star forts – the list goes on.”
“And last but not least,” Iona interjects, “How did the Mayans develop their incredible calender and where did they get their vast reservoir of astronomy, mathematics and scientific knowledge from? How come the Sumerians knew about the planets, Uranus, Neptune and Pluto? When modern humans didn’t discover them until the 18th, 19th and 20th century consecutively. How did the Zulu and Dogon tribes know that there are 24 planets in our part of space that are inhabited by intelligent creatures of various descriptions?” she wonders aloud.
“Indeed. All this fascinating intrigue. It’s like the finger pointing at the moon,” Koan says contemplatively.
“Such is life Koan. Which side of the moon though?...!” Iona smiles, “The moon is really disproportionate in size – in the galaxy! Mars shows intense signs of massive scarification, gorges bigger than the grand canyon, and has evidence of a great ocean! The asteroid belt shouldn’t really be there, nor should Saturn’s rings, and the Van Allen belts at the upper extremity of Earth’s ionosphere contain a massive invisible forcefield that acts like a giant shield around Earth!” Be that as it may, it becomes quite abstract when we add wonder upon wonder about the heavens.
Critically, at the end of the day the answers lie in our own psychologies, not things external. We just can’t discount the plainly bizarre combination of human tendencies. Even just the amount of meat in the diet! Let alone the dominant reptilian brain tendencies that hold sway: territorialism, ritualism, conventionalism, fanaticism, deception, aggression and so on. Human children are so much more dependant on their parents than any other species, for so much longer! They behave nothing at all like you would suppose advanced mammals to behave! There’s more to this scenario than most humans care to admit!”
Koan nods in agreement, “Yes but there is always a flip side. We can actually appreciate the universal natures of our beings – our bond with the Great Spirit. Ultimately we resonate with the true spirit or essence, as quantum beings beyond limitation. We are a combination of miraculous wonders and deep sentient consciousness.”
That is true we haven’t lost our original link to the creative force. Even though in Lloyd Pye’s book ‘Everything you know is wrong,’ he exposes some glaring proofs for his title such as our generalised weakness compared to our closest genetic relatives, apes,” Koan continues. “How about the enigma that we typically use only about 10% of our massively supercharged brains! Critically, our gene pool has over 4000 genetic defects. Not only that, we only have 46 chromosomes, when our closest genetic relatives that share over 95% of our DNA have 48!”
“I’m more a fan of David Wilcox’s Biological Universe perspective,” says Iona.
“If the DNA molecule, proteins and lifeforms on Earth are energetically conceived by an underlying cosmic intelligence, the next step is that this intelligence designed the human form! The human form is the image of the Galactic Mind! Evolution is not random and did not only happen on Earth! The scientific transition that humanity has to make, is a move away from the misconception that biological life only happens on Earth! Biological life is everywhere! The very essence of the universe is the creation of biological life. Quantum mechanics has the ingredients to make life written right into it. He also emphasises that over 30 ancient cultures were encoded with the same metaphors in their mythologies. This is the collective story that we are currently going through an epic transformation that leads us into a Golden Age. The Golden Age dimensional shift transition is being characterised by a fundamental change in what it means to be human!
The unified field theory of history and the whole objective of the majority of ETs is the prophecy of the Golden Age. David likens this to a tree, the fruit cannot ripen until the tree is ready. He uses the Maharishi – Meditation effect to explain this further.”
“Think positive – it’s no secret,” Koan adds.
“They proved that when a small percentage of society got together and meditated on pure consciousness and peace, not only did life-supporting trends increase, but collective rates of crime and terrorism decreased.”
“I buy that,” Iona smiles. It correlates with Amit Goswami’s quote, the purpose of the universe is manifesting the highest ideals, the archetypes or supramental values. Other examples are Gaia consciousness and the hundredth monkey effect!”
Koan smiles, stretching and looking around the surrounding Zen-style gardens.
They gently make their way back to the tour group who are starting to assemble around the tour bus. They re-appreciate the autonomous spaciousness afforded the rocks and plants of the Zen landscape. Beautiful blends of locally occurring minerals and water features. Sitting on a couple of the Zen rocks and waiting for everyone to assemble, they take a breath of fresh air.
It’s a relaxed trip back to Symphya and Iona and Koan are both tired after the intense conversation. They lapse into fond recollections of the idyllic settings around the conservation lake and meditation garden. Sitting there alongside each other, travelling along at swift pace, neither doubt the simple power of now, in a mutual and unitive shared peace.
The following morning Koan and Iona take a long stroll around the neighbourhood to breakfast at a neighbourhood cafe. Hot chocolate, crepes and croissants are the order of the day. The themes of natural unity and societal disunity remain forefront in their minds after yesterday’s meditative contemplative whirlwind discussions about conflicting and correlating world-views in the age of information overload.
“Koan, I’m decided on this! Nothing can get in the way of our intrinsic and natural relationship with the Great Spirit of the universe. It’s as simple as that as far as I’m concerned,” Iona is convinced.
Koan laughs. “Sure, let’s leave thought, concepts and belief systems out of the way. We have free minds, let’s enjoy our freeness.”
“Freedom is one part consciousness, one part compassion,” adds Iona. It’s our natural, fundamental state! Humans that get themselves stuck in ritualistic ego practises to generate compassion are missing the point by miles. They are compassionate.”
“Yes, indeed,” Koan agrees. “In the book, The Alphabet versus the Goddess, Leonard Shlain relates that between 200,000 and 90,000 years ago: as Homo Sapiens were differentiating away from hominids, language acquisition required brain circuit re-wiring. Over 90% of language modules were placed in the left hemisphere of right handed humans who comprise 92% of the population. Most hunting and killing strategies are placed in the left hemisphere. Most nurturing and gathering strategies are placed in the right hemisphere. Shlain doesn’t allow us to forget that 5000-3000 years ago, less than 2% of the population were literate - scribes and priests. The first alphabetic book ever written was the Hebrew Bible. What an effect that would have had on entrenching the class society and wiring linguistic neural pathways!”
“I hear that,” Iona agrees as they receive their order with a smile and a customary hot towel and green tea.
As they eat and drink slowly and casually, a happily contemplative mood takes over after the trip away. Reunifying with the natural freshness and vitality of the countryside worked wonders to recharge their energy.
“You know Iona,” Koan pipes up. “Our saving grace as a species are the ‘Contemplative’ and Indigenous metaphysical and holistic mindsets marrying quantum physics and technological advancement.
“When is the wedding?” Iona asks sarcastically, munching grapes.
“It’s already occurred,” Koan smiles heartily. “The holographic dimensions accessible through the quantum field always interlace our reality. Nowadays we can even use technology to access and transmit higher dimensional frequencies through the transmitting process of quantum resonance! That fact alone could revolutionise the way we function as holographic beings. The difference with technology is that we can be transparent about the process, and prove it to the 5D level!”
“Imagine the consequences for Health and Well-Being!” Iona declares, sipping her tea.
“Yes the potential is inexhaustible,” Koan agrees. “We can actually source the essential and integral blueprints, frequencies and genetic codes of our original transcendental nature of universal source consciousness!”
Finishing a croissant, he continues, “According to top physicist, Burkhard Heim, the universe consists of 12 holographic dimensional structures. Dimensions 1-3 include the material World and space. 4D is Time. 5-6D are implementation possibilities where structure equals manifested information. 7-8D are source information fields. Beyond that, 9-12D is everything from Hyperspace to Origin.”
“12 Dimensions huh?” Iona muses, munching a croissant.
“Cool hey,” Koan agrees. “The 7th and 8th Dimensions are sometimes related to concepts such as Chi, Ether, Orgone, Shiva/Shakti concepts, Zero Point, Free Energy, Akashic Records, and Morphic Fields.”
“Women’s intuition is 12D,” Iona smiles. “I’m pleasantly amused, relaxing on a cloud in the 7-8D information realm. “I’ve always known this stuff!” she continues, “just not in so many words,” and laughs.
“Heim recognised that a modulated standing gravitational wave can be demodulated in any location at the very same moment in time!” Koan grins.
“So there is no World out there, independent of experience right!” Iona states.
“Bingo!” Koan exclaims. “Particles within atoms are infinitesimal! Atoms are mostly empty. In fact, the universe is mostly empty. Electrons, which are the building blocks of what we call “reality”, are not solid particles at all, but exist as waves as well. In wave form, they are called “quanta”, which is why the study of how they behave is called “quantum physics”. Now here’s the delightful part... Electrons or quanta are effected by observation! They respond to our consciousness!”
“So that’s why food is always delicious. It’s a process of synergy. Thank you Koan.”
“No worries. It’s quite magical. Particles are just momentary manifestations that surf in on waves from the quantum ocean. Electrons only become “solid particles” when we perceive them! Even the nucleus of an atom, which we traditionally thought of as dense, pops in and out of wave function!”
I heard one physicist calling the World a “radically ambiguous and ceaselessly flowing quantum soup!” Iona smiles.
“Hahah yes indeed!” Koan laughs, “It’s so exciting, the World is a holographic field! The universal quantum field at the non-material heart beyond is like a super-consciousness ocean of possibility.”
“Wow!” Iona exclaims, and grins.
“It’s a beautiful irony”, Koan laughs. “We’re consciousness holograms in a holographic universe. Reflections of a fantastic mystery of being. Rivers flowing in and out of a great existential ocean of transcendence!”
How does one justify the sudden replacement of everything by the power-station energy of love akin with religious immersion? It seems there is no justification as one needn’t wonder about what’s simply wondrous. The one string attached is that neither Koan nor Iona had planned on being involved in such an all encompassing intensity. Love has swept through both of their lives like a tidal wave. Love, like life, extols surrender. Synthesising with the external World seems to involve such total openness, flexibility and honesty. Compounding this energy though, at the back of one’s mind, is a bizarre and faint feeling that this too will pass.
The last while for Koan and Iona has been like walking through the mirror of the self, into a World confirmed by someone else’s experience. Mirroring the feelings about what it is to discover another world, the other shore, is knowing the outline of their own psyche better, in a way they never have before. Aside love, only spirituality or art could replicate similar feelings of absorption. What Koan and Iona both vaguely notice occurring is that not only does love highlight and embrace the spiritual and artistic experience, at the same time, like an injudicious partner, it brings them to ransom.
Koan hasn’t a clue what’s required as this depth of connection and trust is quite unfamiliar to him. He doesn’t want to think it but he wonders whether Iona is subtly aloof, as though subconsciously holding something back. Why that is Koan doesn’t know, he just feels as though she’s subtly less willing to ride on roughshod. He hopes this isn’t true and contrary to any other subject, is one he doesn’t broach.
Iona knows that he’s a wanderer in the sense of the sadhu. As soon as she’d met him, Iona could see that Koan was off trail unhappy with yogi typical stuff and looking for his own answers to the existential quandary. Koan told her once that there’s three types of people, those that consider this embodied existence all there is, those that consider it’s nothing more than a wisp of smoke, and those in between. When Iona had asked him which one he was, Koan had said somewhere in between, but she’d known straight away that he was lying, for her sake. Iona felt that he would never really be interested in ‘ordinary’ life and contrary to finding that out of the ordinary, found it so ordinary he attempted to conceal it. She can tell that Koan pays little heed to ‘usual’ concerns and considerations, at the same time intuitively feeling that the process with which she’s involved, ends in a similar freedom from concern. Iona sometimes wonders whether or not they’ve arrived at the same metaphorical place, from opposite directions.
Later that day Koan walks in excited, grinning broadly. Iona welcomes him back with the customary greeting and they smile at their willingness to utilise these cultural niceties. Standing together in the entranceway of their tiled apartment, by an assortment of fluffy slippers and cut and dried flower arrangements, they indulge in the breath of fresh air feeling that true love provides.
Koan produces a small yet delicately carved jade statue of a female Buddha Guanyin, a Buddha of Compassion, and gifts it to Iona. Saying, “I love it,” Iona directs all her attention to the intricately patterned Buddha Guanyin.
He’s happy she’s happy and is grinning because of that, and because he found the right gift after trekking around Symphya for a day before eventually finding a seldom trafficked market, with a toothless old merchant sitting on a straw mat and selling Buddha figurines and Indian rings.
“It just appeared out of nowhere,” he says now, waving it away.
“Out of the great cosmos sitting on a lotus and a sun disc!” Iona smiles. “On one Canangan island I stood beside a super massive brass statue of Guanyin, thirty metres high!”
“I’m sorry darling. I couldn’t afford one of those ones!” Koan laughs humorously.
Later that afternoon Koan and Iona wander into the World Cup of Philanthropy final. They only had vague plans to go along to the stadium suburb and join the party however they get caught up in the vibe and literally walk into one of the greatest celebrations on the planet. Various philanthropy teams are at the gate offering free entry in exchange for commitment to receive newsletters and share ethical solutions they promote.
Fun times! Iona and Koan really enjoy a wide range of debates and presentations. Genuine philanthropy is well represented and in fine voice and full flight on the night. Peer-to-peer exchanges of goods and services favoured by transition towns and community trading groups are endorsed as a popular alternative to centralised networks and represented by many speakers with practical examples of mutual successes that extend far beyond file sharing.
The extension of peer-to-peer is a fully collaborative economy with greater access to shared resources. Decentralised and collaborative networks with no middle men and hidden charges. Even the traditional labour model is transformed into an abundance transfer method with win-win-win scenarios across the board and no boss, management or top-down hierarchy to steal all the income.
The top ranking philanthropy projects on the night manifest as foundations, associations, community groups and so on. They are all humanitarian non-government non-profit social enterprise organisations for community benefit. Accordingly they are tax exempt with no liability to corporate/state taxation “protocols”.
Of course, replacing the private, corporate “federal” reserve debt money scam is strongly advocated by all philanthropy groups as a must! Alternatives such as gold backed public banking networks can and do bypass the debt money paradigm altogether. These also provide more consumer security and the spin off is greater enrichment to local communities. Credit unions and crowdfunding are another couple of viable alternatives that Iona and Koan hear presented throughout the night.
One strategy advocated that offers a radical solution to problems of current debt involves acknowledging the fraudulent nature of the financial system by which it was incurred. Therefore the legitimate striking off of all fraudulently created debt is presented as a valid and legal measure, as the debt itself was invalid, and therefore void. On the flip side the liberal leftist philanthropist groups champion their universal basic income – another thinly disguised communism that would replace the welfare system.
Regardless of which philanthropy team get higher accolades, everyone is a winner on the night! Iona and Koan get quite caught up in extreme ecstatic celebrations as the philanthropic waves and domino-like compassionate effects literally reverberate through the stadium and up into the sky!
The MC concluding the tournament reminds everyone that the etymology of philanthropy is ‘love of humanity’ to exuberant applause. The MC continues, “Ladies and gentlemen I want you to keep the spirit of this night alive. Go home to your communities and share everything!!! Let’s try and emulate some of these wonderful presenters tonight and in so doing copy Mother Nature in all her generous glory!
Most of you know of the compassionate mantra om mani padme hum – homage to the jewel in the lotus. This is a perfect example that philanthropy is more about compassion than money!! We want you to carry that jewel of compassion home as a motto. And ladies and gentlemen, always remember that the abundance paradigm is our birth-right and ours to share!!!
The joyous mood of the night remains with Iona and Koan for quite some time. It’s been an extraordinary run of events for both of them since travelling and their shared journey toward better living reaches a utopian crescendo on the philanthropy night. Drawn together, like lovers in a lightning storm, it had all happened at thunderous speed. The landscape of their minds had transformed and their consciousnesses loved so completely, they’d disappeared in the process!
One morning they wander back to the Perennial Gardens Beyond and sit down on the park bench where they met chatting about life. The foreign environment of Jayacedar has been both a blessing and a hindrance. It has meant they’ve depended more on each other, however has affected a lack of an extended social network. They’ve gained deep insight into the way a crazy urban metropolis ticks, but have felt an emotional disconnect from their home countries of wide natural expanses and forest fed rivers running out to sea. Jayacedar has made them both drastically re-evaluate what culture means and caused them to re-clarify their own identity with a strength that is more transcendental than they’d ever thought possible.
Rather than full of complexity, reality has turned into endless possibility for both of them. The setting for this sky dance of consciousness has proved that it’s not dependant on a physical location as it’s limitless, essential, vibrant and vital, multi-verse potential!
Koan and Iona have experienced so many moments of simple bliss, simply experiencing the joys of ebbs and flows and smiling. Certainly they’ve found the engine of society to be something of an obstacle to a natural expression of love however they’ve kept themselves level by manifesting intentions and staying above the mundane. After a lifetime, Koan has found a true philosophical friend who is as enthusiastic as he is about exploring the truth behind the dynamics of consciousness playing out.
Iona has found someone who has been pivotal in helping her re-define what is on the other side of the looking glass. Someone that has challenged her to hold onto clarity and authenticity and inspired her to reach every potential she creates. They’ve both been there and done that and had the same conversations with the same groups of libertarians, free-loaders and drug store cowboys and cowgirls. When it comes down to the crunch, by whatever cosmic inconceivable they’ve connected more thoroughly and understood each other more completely than ever before.
Koan reflects, “You know Iona, what I’ve learnt is that it’s not a game but it is a play. The idea of a game is based around competition. However the idea of playing is that everyone has fun doing it. Kids who play day after day naturally could care less who wins or loses. They just want to run around with the others because it is fun. Life is a play of limitless potential so people don’t need to go to a game to enjoy themselves. Furthermore, they’re not limited to playing a game and having fun once a week, then working the rest of it, where playing is forbidden. That is just a prison paradigm. All the World is not a sports ground and the people are not players, supporters, spectators, coaches and commentators. Games are only promoted to download the rule based structure of order onto poor young kids that were quite happy just playing together!” he emphasises.
“Quite a statement Koan, indeed! Do you know the Nikola Tesla quote, “if you want to find the secrets of the Universe, think in terms of energy, frequency, and vibration,” Iona asks.
“And not in terms of competition and profit!” Koan responds with irony. “Yes, that quote says about it all really. No wonder Tesla figured out all that electricity and energy stuff. He paid scant attention to the human drama and just tuned straight into the universe. It must have been so intriguing and beautiful for him. I get the sense with some of his diagrams and writings he is just playing with the essentially playful quality of life manifest everywhere.”
Iona says, “Tesla always makes me think of Jonathan Livingston Seagull. We had to read that story during school. One of the highlights of the twelve years”, she laughs. “It reminds me of a ballad we studied that same year by Thomas the Rhymer called The Queen of Elfland. You may know it from a popular excerpt... want me to recite it?”
“Yes, please do,” Koan replies.
“O see ye not yon narrow road
So thick beset with thorns and briars?
That is the path of righteousness,
Tho after it but few enquires.
And see ye not that braid braid road,
That lies across yon lillie leven?
That is the path of wickedness,
Tho some call it the road to heaven.
And see ye not that bonnie road,
Which winds about the fernie brae?
That is the road to fair Elfland,
Where you I and this night maun gae (may go).”
“That’s powerful! Especially for the era it was written. I love the old ballad style, thanks Iona. It’s so empowering knowing you and sharing these gems along the way. I often think that as we’re characterised by freewill as human beings... we create our realities. In that sense you and I were destined to meet here because we needed each other, we needed to help balance each other’s universes. This is what I love about freewill. It is governed by innate consciousness and therefore can not be governed from the external. All external manipulation of consciousness would lead to is a false or illusive path that was tangential to real innate reality. True freewill consciousness is ultimately transcendental – beyond self referencing, as it’s produced by our higher self or our spirit! It gives me a real sense of security to believe this.”
“This is what renowned philosophical speaker Jiddhu Krishnamurti was referring to in one of his speeches when he said...” Koan takes out his notebook from his bag and reads:
“Truth is a pathless land, and you cannot approach it by any path whatsoever, by any religion, by any sect. That is my point of view, and I adhere to that absolutely and unconditionally. Truth, being limitless, unconditioned, unapproachable by any path whatsoever, cannot be organised; nor should any organisation be formed to lead or to coerce people along any particular path. If you understand that, then you will see how impossible it is to organise a belief. A belief is purely an individual matter, and you cannot and must not organise it. If you do, it becomes dead, crystallised; it becomes a creed, a sect, a religion, to be imposed on others. This is what everyone throughout the World is attempting to do. Truth is narrowed down and made a plaything for those who are weak, for those who are only momentarily discontented. Truth cannot be brought down, rather the individual must make the effort to ascend it. You cannot bring the mountain-top to the valley. If you would attain to the mountain-top you must pass through the valley, climb the steeps, unafraid of the dangerous precipices.”
He goes onto maintain that organisations cannot lead man to spirituality. Essentially he continues to say that humankind may gain their freedom by breaking away from all limitations. Limitlessness gives humankind eternal happiness, and an unconditioned realisation of the self. Freedom from fear obviously presupposes freedom, unconditionality and holistic understanding. He maintains that ‘unconditional freedom is the incorruptibility of the self which is eternal, and the harmony between reason and love. That is the absolute, unconditioned Truth which is Life itself.’..”
“Amazing message. Thanks for sharing,” Iona comments, before a long pause.
“Those who really desire to understand, who are looking to find that which is eternal, without beginning and without an end, will walk together with a greater intensity, will be a danger to everything that is unessential, to unrealities, to shadows. And they will concentrate, they will become the flame, because they understand. Such a body we must create, and that is my purpose. Because of that real understanding there will be true friendship. Because of that true friendship – there will be real cooperation on the part of each one. And this is not because of authority, not because of salvation, not because of immolation for a cause, but because you really understand, and hence are capable of living in the eternal.” Koan trails off and puts the notebook down.
“Wow amazing food for thought! That’s for sure,” Iona says and then they drift off into a mutual silence for quite some time.
Iona’s back on shift while Koan’s holding down the fort freelancing from home. After the recent holiday and the Philanthropy she is tripping with vast new feelings and ideas. Her life has been changing so rapidly and it’s been a whirlwind of fun and fascination with Koan and the Jayacedrun surround. However inside she is feeling a greater drive, an overwhelming feeling almost of despair for the world, a great pulsating intensity to play the game, to respond, to answer the call of this insistent energy. The consistently of work is so unsettling and frustrating, there is so much else to do.
Koan is Koan and she knows he feels the same. Iona feels they have the same intensity of emotion and drive for something more profound then a relationship dictated by societal terms such as wages and rent. Iona is exploring the surrounds of the work neighbourhood, casually meandering about during the lunch hour. She happens across a quaint yet trendy Café Bar that presents a cosy atmosphere and is surprised she hasn’t noticed it before. Three menus are prominently displayed alongside each other in the window, neatly written in different coloured chalks. The bar, coffee and tapas menus. The coffee is the one that catches her attention.
At the top it says, “We have always worked to buy our coffee in a way that respects the people and places that produce it. It’s simply what we believe to be right.”
It’s a straight forward arrangement. Five different types of coffee, similarly priced, listed in alphabetical order by name. They could do them in whatever style, espresso, cappuccino... and so on. The menu specifically identifies which country the coffee beans are grown in, for each type of coffee. The three that Iona reads are:
Swirl: From the home of coffee, classic Sai style and finesse ~ 900
Jungle: Well balanced Canangan coffee from established, respected cooperative ~ 800
Lotus: Intensely aromatic, strong flavoured Nezian ~ 850
Iona orders a Swirl piccolo, and then sits waiting comfortably, humming inaudibly to some lounge jazz from a nearby stereo. It reminds her of the coffee chain Chawu, and Chawu reminds her of Koan. They’d had a similar thing going at Chawu too, from memory, a nod to the suppliers, a blurb about fair trade, and marketing babble.
Halfway through the Swirl piccolo Iona is quietly reflecting about her journey and Koan’s journey, and their journey of oneness. Suddenly, in a literal lightning strike of time, she concerns herself more directly with the journey the coffee has taken to get to the cup, and totally baulks at the mock sincerity of the egalitarian advertising. Within a few moments her calm veneer has boiled over and without a second thought Iona snatches her bag and storms out of the coffee bar.
Her boss gets sent a resignation letter by email that afternoon and it is not especially polite. Iona chides herself that she will never stoop so low as to working in the diplomatic sector again, or have anything to do with bureaucracy per se.
At first light Iona pops out the door and around the corner. From a large planter box out the front of one of a few old style domestic houses in the area, she picks a beautiful bright white hydrangea - quietly intoning she really needs it more, to the owner - and carries it back to their apartment.
Koan is tinkering about in the kitchen. They’ve always enjoyed the early morning together before duties carried them away. He is making pancakes, whistling some tune, pretending her out of character disappearance isn’t significant.
Iona walks up to Koan and passes him the hydrangea, kissing him on the forehead on her tiptoes. Then, stifling an intense rush of emotion she busies herself with helping to mind breakfast, flipping the pancakes.
Glancing at Koan, he is beaming shining smiles. Producing a vase from somewhere, he places the bright white hydrangea in water on the top shelf. Iona’s thankful that he remains silent, then he busies himself at the stereo, to put on a song by Chris Knox called Not Given Lightly. The chorus chants, ‘it’s you that I love and it’s true that I love and it’s love not given lightly…’
Iona reigns in extreme emotional undertow and hopes it looks like she is smiling while she bites her bottom lip to keep herself from crying. Munching pancake helps get her through the lyrics, then they hug, and it feels like plants must feel on their daily re-greeting of the sun, or in their devoted celebration of rain after a dry spell, or when they notice their progeny growing up around them.
Shortly afterwards, when Koan opens the door to leave for work Iona says, “Thanks for smiling when I gave you the flower,” and hugs him intensely.
Koan smiles brightly and ambles away. Closing the door, Iona says quietly, "At dusk, the stars shape our body."
Before Iona knows it, she is sitting there on her own, nibbling on another carob and buckwheat pancake, looking at a bright white hydrangea on a shelf and listening to nothing but the quiet purring of the city and the singular sound of tears raining silently. She looks around their small apartment - at the things and the place and the space she’s gotten to know so well and thinks, ‘there ain’t no going back now.’
It only takes an hour to get her things together during which time lifetimes pass through her mind. Taking some deep breaths of courage and fresh air, Iona places a handwritten poem delicately on their kitchen table, then shoulders her backpack and walks out the door.
With these last words, she’s gone. Not only does it sound like it is like that, it is like it sounds. The echo of the song. The silence of the space.
Koan notices straight away that things are different. Maybe he sub-consciously realised before opening the door that everything had changed. He immediately notices the poem and it reverberates emphatically throughout his world as he reads it.
mind body soul the life journey
the meeting of 2 spirits
each knows the self
expressed in the other
attentive to the echo of the world
full circle soul journey
back to Source wisdom
beauty and luck of life
they meet each other
no sadness, just a beat of melancholy
Iona struck some nerve Koan never knew existed. He meanders around the house aimlessly picking things up and putting them down, desperately trying not to notice the void where Iona’s things were supposed to be. He collapses onto a dining chair and is transfixed by the bright white hydrangea on the shelf, as though it suggests the sacred pearl light radiating at the centre of the brain that mystics talk about when they reach ultimate union with God.
He has an inkling of what PKD must have felt on 2/3/74 when the beam of pink light transmission download hit him from the vesica piscis necklace of a pharmacy delivery woman. ‘Actually no wait, what? That could have been Iona’s experience! She was really tripping since the temple holiday and the Philanthropy tournament. Maybe she experienced something like VALIS – Vast Active Living Intelligence System downloads. But Iona would have told him, for sure! Is that what the flower hinted at? The flower of life.’
’The flower of life, she always had that sticker on her phone! At the temple which was a total deep dive experience, the painting on the wall of the Buddha with the flower and his disciples. Wait was that what the hydrangea means Iona! Iona what are you doing now?’…
Koan wonders if he hadn’t quite been ready for universal spirit and coincidence to click together at the same time as his work schedule and Iona’s horoscope to roll the two of them together, like two stray nomads in a prairie. Revisiting Iona’s ‘mind body soul the life journey’ poem again, Koan’s too affected to read through more than those first six words. He stares at that sentence intoning it like mantra as though he’s just found directions to the dragon’s gold, or the only existing translation of a complex hieroglyphic alien peace charter.
Nothing will replace her, ever. There’s no way he could begin to do justice to her qualities. It seems like so long ago that Koan was just sitting there chilling, at the Perennial Gardens Beyond, by some old cedar tree. Surely Iona could recall what it was like when they met. When they looked into one another’s eyes and disappeared. Did they know then that they would traverse this journey? Explore this ocean of emotive epiphany and symbiotic discovery.
Koan loved that lifetime with Iona like no time he has ever loved, and sitting here now, knowing he’s on his own, is just too much. He knows there’s virtually no chance of Iona walking back through the door. It’s just not in her character to feign leaving on some ruse and then reappear, he knows her too well.
Was their relationship just fated to be a one season wonder? Kind of like a great wine. ‘The Eagles Nest Shiraz of ‘009… amazing.’ Maybe it was meant to prepare them both to cope with any future event notwithstanding. Like a flower on a baobab tree, it bloomed out of nowhere. Before too long, it’s gone to velvet horizons. Faded away.
Will the communication roll on now that Iona’s left, or will silence prevail? Koan is bewildered. This floating World can sometimes seem just so fleeting. Was there something Koan was missing? ‘What was it because of?’
’The hydrangea the hydrangea! The Buddha story of the flower painted on the wall at the temple. The Lotus Flower Teachings!!! The temple talk they had heard was all about the lotus flower teachings! They’d started the ceremony chanting Na Myōhō Renge Kyō.’
Quickly rehashing the basics like he was a detective searching for clues, Koan remembers the Lotus Sutra teaches that all beings can attain Buddhahood. The wisdom teachings last forever. Awakening is universal and inevitable. And there is one ultimate path. Surely Iona was pointing directly at this sacred flower sutra with her symbolic gift! She is an incredibly aligned woman – the hydrangea was no coincidence... this had to mean there was something deeply encoded about Iona’s path for Koan in the mysterious Lotus Sutra and if he had to spend the rest of his life working it out, he would. We are the self, we reflect the self – will we travel full circle back to the self again? What an enigma, what a woman.
Koan’s mind couldn’t settle nor stop cycling through options. ‘ Did Iona move on because she just needed to be a free spirit? More likely, had the trip around Cananga and their relationship propelled her by some kind of epiphanic force to retreat for a while and resolve unresolved questions spinning around in her head that Koan couldn’t help with?’ Was Koan going to get a phone-call or email from her in a few days, a few weeks or a few months explaining some catalytic events that conspired to cause her to leave?
Koan just sits there shell shocked through the evening as though he’s had a life defining revelatory realisation, then clean forgotten it so conclusively, he knows it’s forever gone into the flux. Some memory surfaces about how good it all was, with innocent benignity, like a long lost friend, or breaking out of jail.
Koan knew they’d really found new land. He knew Iona had the same bitter sweet intangibility of mind and essence of spirit that he did. He’s been around long enough to know that lightning doesn’t strike in the same place twice. Thoughts are fleeting, transitory things. If Koan’s mind was like the sky, a thought was just a kite or bird or cloud passing through the sky, that was what Iona had told him. Currently there are countless flocks of thoughts about her flying through his mind.
Indigo
Iona loved him so she left him, left everything and everyone. Time and tide don’t wait for no cat. Could be dead by tomorrow, remembered that.
It’s a bright blue Oceanic sky and she is enjoying the breath of fresh psychological air that the Oceanic mainland offers. From her vantage point high up in the clearing, Iona looks across the native tree tops, further through the forest to exotic tree tips, jostling one against the other. Way out in the distance the mighty ocean merges with the celestial sky. When she stills her thoughts Iona can make out the constant pulsing, that perpetual breathing of waves rolling into shore. Insects chatter and birds banter with one another, while Iona sits in a peaceful silence and contemplates.
She hopes beyond hope that Koan is doing alright and is taking this rather sudden turn of events okay. She misses him, more than ever and hopes he understands or will one day understand that her life had just become totally untenable since travelling around Cananga, meeting him and falling in love, and Jayacedar.
The World’s paradoxes had confronted her so vividly at every turn that she felt driven to turn her energy within and express the energy in whatever way she needed to to satisfy her soul drive. If that meant she needed to take a huge quantum leap into the void without Koan holding her hand to finish the puzzle, she had to. There was no way to explain this drive – it was like the surge of kundalini power.
She couldn’t drag Koan down that track. She had to finish her journey where she had started it, alone.
Since meeting each other, they’d both been so caught up by an immense energy that carried them in arms of clear light to a place beyond question, beyond limit. The place they got to know was personal freedom awakening and Iona was crying out for some clear space to ground that energy and place it into perspective. Even though she’d moved on, didn’t mean she was gone. The pinnacle of love is not something easily left behind.
The part of the relationship she reflects on now, is the feeling like being totally at home when they were together, wherever they’d been. That feeling however, that freedom of being, is something Iona realises is a universal standard. Ultimately it should not be dependant on conditions and where societies are so dysfunctional that it is, we need to ask ourselves some serious questions. The upheaval in her personal life is symbolic of the upheaval required by society to embrace a new paradigm.
In front of Iona is a list of the Oceanic government departments. Since being so blatantly confronted with the gross divide between the “1st” and “3rd” worlds while travelling, Iona has felt driven to deeply investigate the engine room of society. Considering societal waves have dictated her whole life, she feels it’s only proper that she gives them some of her wavelength to honour her internal sovereign shore.
Her fantasy of a proper community is groups of independent sovereign beings everywhere, deciding how to best manage their own autonomous affairs. That process would naturally bypass the self-appointed mainstream version, more through a process of sovereign decision making than non-compliance. To her, these decentralised networks of communities would be a true representation of the adage used for ‘democracy,’ ‘by the people, for the people.’ The people creating their own realities. As fantastic as that sounds she personally needs to mind map it out.
In her travels and contemplations, and in her heart, Iona feels that humans missed the boat of natural synchronisation with nature’s deepest patterns of fundamental symmetries. In her dreamlike states and in her spirit she feels tuned into the underlying geometric and energetic structure of the cosmos. These energies created the balance of the natural world which although Iona considers distorted in aspects, she feels it ultimately reflects a balance perhaps best symbolised by the Yin-Yang symbol of Taoist cosmology. Honouring her sovereign being’s freewill, and the natural collective consciousness paradigm she feels driven to translating this into words – something that she can hold onto which would represent sanity in the distortion. This act would ground it and act as a cathartic therapy she needed to release any psychological residue from the false light matrix.
By rights a “democracy” would function innately without need for bureaucracy. Popular shared visions of the community would inevitably come to pass on a routine basis. There would be obvious recognition that hierarchy was contrary to balanced representation. The animalistic chain of command system, masquerading as democratic federal politics, that entrenches the class/caste system and the corporate oligarchy, would be considered alien. Remembering, to be sure, that theft or infringement of property such as Life, Rights and Freedoms constitutes a transgression of Natural Law.
Iona takes a few deep breaths and stills her mind. She projects her list of the Oceanic government departments into Heim’s 8th Dimension and meditates on non-self ideals. Ideally – just like in the Lotus Sutra – the natural symmetry of the lotus would be reflected to benefit all beings in recognition of their own sovereignty and innate right of ethical autonomy. Holistic inter-connectedness governed by mutual peer-to-peer relationships and Earth’s abundance paradigm would occur naturally. Natural living human beings inherently identify with freedom, unity consciousness and universal sentience.
Koan decides to quit his job. Of course he’s been emotionally torn since Iona’s departure and minor issues at work have started to magnify, like ripples on still water. The partners inability to have confidence in each other, or take anyone else into their confidence, has not made things easy. The information relay chain is so stagnant that Koan even begins to doubt the ultimate objective, through lack of transparency across the board. Not only that he’s tired of the upline-downline protocols.
Koan finally finishes the code project and one day while sharing coffee and strawberry bagels with the 3 partners, hands it over with the exit clause: “There it is gentlemen. On that note, I’m out, I’m a freeman now.”
For the next week or two Koan wanders around, trying to walk off his restlessness and figure out what to do. He prefers being out on the street moving about, than back at home which just reminds him of Iona at every turn. He’s certainly on the starboard side of typical tourist activity and is interested in none of the usual backpacker circuits. He spends a few nights passing time in traveller’s bars where everyone talks about where they’re going to go, seemingly discontent with where they are and wanting to be somewhere better. Koan acts on the predisposition that there’s just no such thing as a roomful of strangers. He’s principled enough to forgive what they think of themselves.
It seems strange some nights; the detachment, dislocation, and what Koan considers to be just plain sadness; groups of random loners, countless years of human history later, still figuring out how to communicate. The whole scene seems somewhat like a minefield which he skips through, quickly and cautiously. So what if other people are stuck in varying degrees of relationship bondage? It only makes Koan pine for the qualities of the relationship he had with Iona. Often these days Koan is unable to think of anything other than her smile, hear that dancing rhythm of her laugh, or remember how good it was to see her happy.
He meets a couple of broke Canangan travellers who are stuck in limbo after the Philanthropy world cup, unable to afford an air ticket back home, with their visa’s about to expire. The Canangan connection tugs at his heart-strings and he offers to do what he can to help. They frame shoplifting as a highly principled plan to redeem a small percentage of what the corporations have stolen from them. Perhaps it’s because he agrees with the theory, or because he misses Iona so much that he can’t think straight, that he goes along with the arrangement. Anything related to helping poor Canangans just gives him more of an insight into Iona’s world and he barely considers the criminality aspect. Koan isn’t desperate for the cash after being paid out for his freelance strategic exponent project, but gets roped in for the principle and camaraderie.
It’s a short lived shoplifting racket far from Oliver Twist proportions. Koan’s two pals are simply after enough fast cash for a flight out. They’re after big ticket items that are easy to offload on Symphya’s large black market. Besides being nimble fingered and quick on your feet, the keys to shoplifting, like gambling, in their opinion, is setting short term goals and taking one item at a time. Determined as political or religious refugees, they target large-scale, top-end corporations who fleece Cananga with sweat shop labour. Driven by collective purpose and a burgeoning time constraint, they’re sharp, and soon generate the bulk of the amount necessary.
Despite his best precautions and intentions, Koan slips up on one of his last jobs and soon finds himself in front of the cops. Luckily he’s good at Pidgin English and has enough basic Jayacedrun language. The world cup had seen a wide range of drunk and disorderly incidents with foreigners so the relatively trivial nature of the offence was good timing as far as the typically affable and polite Koan was concerned.
Still, he was feeling the heat and was grateful for the one item policy they’d maintained in case of trouble. It happened to be a top-end Mp3 player he’d taken without realising that the magnetic scanners were also wireless scanners that could pick up most electronic items.
They played good cop, bad cop with Koan. The first one asking friendly questions about his background, accommodation situation and favourite sports team. The second one grilling him about his job, visa, criminal record, and whether or not he knew the meaning of respect.
He could thank the benefactor and three partners for covering his tracks impeccably on the employment front. All his paperwork said was ‘data entry clerk.’ He told the police that his contract had run out unexpectedly, and he was trying to organise a new job. Sure enough, Koan gets the wrong sports team which isn’t too pivotal, as he gets everything else right, from their perspective anyway.
The Mp3 player is critical for Koan’s chances as he’s able to maintain, “It was a one-off act of stupidity based on frustration with the destruction of the music industry. The ease of online Mp3 copying and downloadability has ruined many musicians worldwide. Even worse - the industry has been running psychological manipulation against the general public producing at damaging 440 hertz frequencies. Alternately, 432 hertz is said to be mathematically consistent with the golden ratio patterns of the universe!”
The cops think he’s quite amusing and ask what he was planning on doing with the Mp3 player that wasn’t his? Koan brainstorms for a second and comes up with the answer that, “I’m a broke coder and have been trying to encrypt files so that they don’t play Mp3s until they’ve been paid for. This is not about the money but the principle. Look I can make up for this by releasing the Mp3 encryption software for free!” Koan exclaims. The cops more relaxed demeanour indicate that they think he’s either authentic, or hilarious.
The good cop, bad cop display dissipates and the 2nd cop lights up a smoke and starts checking his phone. The 1st cop tells him that his son is an aspiring drummer and loves listening to old school Western stuff. He can even drum along in time to most of the heavy metal tracks of the band Pantera, which Koan compliments is an impressive skill.
Shortly afterward they let him walk out with the sum total of what he’d arrived with, minus the Mp3 player. He whispers thanks to the Universal Spirit and wanders off down the street grinning sanguinely with a mixture of regret, relief and thankfulness.
A while later, Koan’s sitting in a Chawu cafe reflecting on the multi-cultural scene prevalent since the world cup. He’s been in Symphya long enough to garner some understanding of why the ‘Western’ version of reality is poles apart from the ‘Eastern’ one. What it seems to come down to is the respective identity of the individual in the community, the respective roles that personality, behavioural characteristics and ego play on the stage of the illusory world. He guesses that the role of the masks in ‘Eastern’ stage dramas, allude to these ideas of identity role assumption and allegorically contrast ‘the stage’ with ‘the life.’
The ‘Western’ focus seems to centre around the player - or actor/actress. The more convincing the player, or the actor/actress, the greater the kudos. In the ‘East,’ it seems to depend more on how well one is part of the unit. The more in synch with the status quo, part of the flow, the more smoothly the group can operate. In Jayacedar, Koan feels less like he’s involved in a personality contest and his mind chills out in contemplation of society consisting of groups of people that get along well with one another.
Previously Koan had understood that Buddhist teachings demonstrated how secularism and class orientation were a hindrance to the human cause and an obstacle to liberation from emotional suffering. He can now add the perception that the realisation of self as ‘not-self’ or ‘higher self,’ and the concurring pacification of ego leads to peace of mind, and by extension - peaceful society.
What had so removed Iona from the type of foreign traveller that Koan had met recently? How was it that Iona was so distinct, yet also so communally orientated? What was it that had vanished from Koan’s mind, lamented and missed, when she had disappeared? She definitely would have left Jayacedar! That much he feels sure of. ‘Maybe it was the philanthropy seminars that inspired her to go and raise a million dollars on crowd funding then surprise Koan with a party to celebrate, like in that movie The Game,’ he imagines happily.
“Each new hour offers new chances for new beginnings. The horizon leans forward offering you space to place new steps of change,” is what Iona would have had to say about it, and even though she had gone, Koan still had to keep on. “There’s a whole world of opportunity out there Koan,” is what Iona would have said. Koan also shares an innate trust in universal providence.
The next morning he’s up bright and early with his necessary possessions all in one backpack, and is down at the Symphyan docks scanning the myriad ships in the hope that one of them will be his ticket out into the great wide ocean. ‘Is this what it felt like at the Grey Havens - as the white ships made ready, and the West lay waiting beyond the Sea?’ Koan wondered. A good portion of his ancestral line were tribesmen shipwrights, and they were renowned as being handy types to have around, good natured, quick on their feet, and sharp of wit. This stood his chances in good stead for being picked up as a deckhand on one of the boats. It was a new moon in the sky and a good chance to take the horizon up on the offer of new beginnings.
Iona spends the entire weekend in a deep meditative phase transcribing her 8th Dimension meditation ideals onto paper. She burns tobacco leaf as an offer to universal spirit to guide her and to honour our holistic interconnectivity with the elemental forces of the environment. Iona’s singular aim is to synthesise with natural source intention in order to complete the psychological puzzle that has nagged her long before she met Koan, long before Cananga.
Just Enough - Iona’s Notes on Balance
Finance
Finance naturally synchronises with the fruitful cycles of the realm. It flows healthily when recognised as a meaningful token of barter, rooted in mutual recognition of need. Money, at its best, reflects tangible goods, labour, and skill — not abstract leverage nor perpetual obligation.
Currency arises from a public and transparent source. Legal identity is not collateral; to treat it as such is antithetical to natural exchange and inherently void. Wealth serves when it circulates with purpose rather than resting in schemes that depend on endless expansion or exploitation.
Prosperity matures as balance: material sufficiency, social cohesion, and the health of land and people. Enduring wealth is well-being.
Revenue
Revenue structures are simple and transparent when they are honest. Contribution reflects scale and capacity; complexity does not shield structural advantage. Large enterprise carries proportionate responsibility. Small and private work is not burdened by systems designed for multinational scale. Taxation engenders trust when it is clear and limited in scope.
The dangers of usury are well known — obligation compounded beyond real production. When revenue depends upon perpetual interest and engineered leverage, distortion and exploitation follow. A healthy system does not require endless expansion to sustain itself. It remains steady, fair, and comprehensible. Contribution gathered in this way sustains natural reciprocity between sentient life.
Health
Health is not symptom management; prevention precedes cure. Nutrition, movement, rest, and environment move in coherence. Healing traditions that recognise the body as interconnected stand alongside acute medicine.
Care rests upon transparency, accountability, and informed consent. Intervention remains proportionate to genuine need and aligned with the body’s inherent blueprint toward wholeness. In keeping with the spirit of the Hippocratic Oath, common sense and sensitivity return across the board. The use of pharmaceuticals and clinical authority requires discernment, not dependency.
Health in its fullest sense is inseparable from ecological balance, psychological coherence, and social trust.
Social Services and Employment
Society is understood through the richness of varied cultural identities rather than narrow economic classifications. Employment strengthens communities when small enterprises, sole traders, and local initiatives are supported in proportion to their real contribution.
Remuneration follows genuine skill, responsibility, and service — not inherited rank, old social ladders, or biased calculations baked into the system. The dignity of work is intrinsic; it lies in its contribution, not in its approval by or proximity to power.
Indigenous knowledge and culturally rooted practice offer models of labour aligned with land, continuity, and communal well-being. Employment grounded in place strengthens both people and territory.
Broadcasting
Broadcasting shapes perception and carries responsibility. When concentrated in too few hands, it narrows understanding and distorts public imagination. A healthy society does not outsource its narrative to ghosts in the shell of its own machinery.
Media serves best as a locally grounded poly-culture, accountable to the communities it informs. Citizens retain the freedom to choose what they engage with rather than absorb algorithmic streams.
Local and Indigenous broadcasting sustain cultural memory and continuity. Diverse representation strengthens collective intelligence.
Information engineered for dominance erodes trust; information offered in good faith supports discernment.
Education
Education does not segregate by sex. Minds grow in shared environments, not partitioned corridors.
A living curriculum replaces abstract pseudo-scientific theory and institutional propaganda with cosmopolitan, universal, and vocational understanding. Practical intelligence and experiential learning stand equal with scholarship. Intellectual life does not equal programming.
There are no “subjects” to be subdued, and no rigid “classes” to be sorted into. There are topics, sessions, conversations - spaces where inquiry unfolds.
Indigenous culture and language belong at the heart of the curriculum. Education rooted in place cultivates continuity, discernment, and belonging.
Foreign Affairs and Trade
Global Indigenous customs are respected, and multi-cultural diversity is honoured. Nominal nationalist divisions do not eclipse the simple truth that we are human beings sharing one Earth.
We do unto other countries as we would do unto our own.
Sovereignty rests with a people who know themselves as integral and universal. Alliances remain where they serve that integrity and fall away where they do not.
Trade follows ethical guidelines and genuine fair-trade practice. Local production strengthens resilience rather than deepening distant dependency.
Corporate activity remains subject to collective sovereignty. Trade that exploits or violates law holds no standing in a self-governing nation.
Justice
Justice begins with prevention rather than correction. Social conditions that generate harm are addressed as primary causes. Accountability does not sit on the sidelines. Legislative and corporate power carries consequence — the pen is mightier than the sword. Where policy causes demonstrable harm, it answers for that harm.
Systematised corporate fraud, corruption, and market exploitation constitute graver offences than petty misdemeanours born of desperation.
Transparency and public accountability form the foundation of lawful authority.
Where human legislation reflects natural and universal order, it clarifies what is already self-evident. Where it stands in opposition to that order, it loses moral coherence - and with it, legitimacy.
Corrections
A society that seeks balance does not define itself by punishment. Fixation on retribution obstructs restoration. Systems of custody exist to interrupt cycles of harm, not entrench them. Practical, psychological, and communal rehabilitation becomes the aim. The deepest correction is prevention; the truest justice is reintegration.
Housing
Shelter is not a speculative instrument. A home exists for dwelling, not leverage.
Land is not ultimately owned; it is held in trust. To inhabit a place is to accept guardianship rather than dominion.
Building practices reflect this orientation. Materials, energy use, water capture, and boundary design express either care or extraction. Eco-attuned dwellings strengthen both household and land.
When homes nourish as well as shelter, community strengthens. A dwelling that feeds life embodies balance.
State Services
Public institutions exist to serve the people and operate on a not-for-profit basis. When essential services are treated as commodities, trust erodes and cohesion is compromised.
Stewardship of shared infrastructure reflects collective responsibility rather than corporate logic.
Political office is a function of service, not privilege. Authority derives from the people and remains accountable to them.
A state remains sovereign only insofar as it protects the dignity, autonomy, and welfare of those it represents.
Labour
Work exists to sustain life, not consume it. A healthy society recognises sufficiency as foundational - the ground from which artistic and spiritual expansion naturally arise.
Economic participation reflects capacity and contribution, not class or gender hierarchies, nor structural bias.
Remuneration follows real responsibility and service, not status games disguised as merit.
Workplaces aligned with balance cultivate fairness as a baseline condition.
Productivity is measured not only by output but by natural coherence. Time, rest, and humane conditions are not luxuries; they are structural necessities.
Commerce
Commerce, at its root, implies ‘exchange together.’ A marketplace exists to circulate goods and services within community, not to feed an excess profit motive.
Healthy markets remain diverse. Concentrated power and monopoly narrow choice, restrict flow, and weaken resilience.
Pricing reflects relationship as much as cost. Negotiation, flexibility, and even barter restore a human scale to exchange. When trade remains relational rather than extractive, it strengthens rather than divides.
Immigration
Nationality does not override shared humanity. Borders do not define worth. Belonging to Earth comes first. We are all spiritual tourists here; equally, we are all from here.
Belonging grows through participation in the life of a place - through contribution, respect for law, and mutual responsibility - not through origin alone.
Transport
Systems of transport exist to enhance participation in community, not to entrench dependency or excess consumption.
Energy use calls for innovation and efficiency. Alternative propulsion and cleaner technologies reflect care for land and air.
Public transport strengthens collective access. Shared travel reduces burden on both commuters and the environment.
Mobility remains a tool. When transport aligns with balance, it supports freedom without diminishing what we all share.
Information Technology
Digital infrastructure exists to support communication and knowledge, not to consolidate control.
Open-source systems strengthen resilience, reduce dependency, and foster trust.
Surveillance belongs only where demonstrable harm is present and lawful process is observed.
Freedom of information remains foundational. The digital sphere should protect privacy, dignity, and open exchange rather than enable manipulation or covert extraction.
Technology serves society best when it remains accountable, secure, and oriented toward shared benefit.
Communications
Communication technologies shape humans as surely as roads shape the environment. Their effects on health and ecology warrant ongoing, independent inquiry.
Where credible evidence indicates biological or psychological harm, industry carries an obligation to address demonstrable risk through redesign, mitigation, or transition.
Public well-being precedes commercial convenience.
Indigenous Affairs
Indigenous peoples are not cultural footnotes but living custodians of place. Sovereignty and autonomy are inherent.
Engagement requires cultural respect - listening and continuity of relationship rather than neglect or abuse.
Sustained self-governance reflects both historical truth and contemporary responsibility.
Where decisions affect Indigenous land, law, or life, their voice is primary - not advisory.
Police
Policing reflects the character of justice. Officers serve the people through the lawful protection of life, dignity, and property - not through allegiance to institutional power.
The use of force carries grave responsibility.
Harms that destabilise communities at scale - corruption, organised fraud, and abuses of structural power - warrant priority over disproportionate focus on minor offences.
Authority is strongest when exercised with restraint, transparency, and accountability.
Internal Affairs
Natural governance remains transparent, accountable, and open to scrutiny. Policy serves the people best when aligned with universal law - clear in intention and measurable in consequence.
Administration is judged not by complexity but by integrity. Ethical action guides procedural responsibility.
National affairs align with natural order, recognising that stability arises from coherence rather than control.
Civil Defence
Defence begins long before disaster. A society aligned with balance reduces the emergencies it must later survive.
Veterans Affairs
Reintegration, healing, and social belonging are collective responsibilities, not private struggles.
Elders carry true perspective. When they are included in daily life rather than shelved, memory remains active and culture does not drift into identity crisis.
Senior years do not retire relevance; they refine it. A society that acknowledges those who have served and endured learns from its past rather than repeating it.
Agriculture
Food systems reflect our relationship with land. Practices that exhaust soil, narrow biodiversity, or rely on chemical dependency undermine both ecological and human health.
Diversity restores resilience. Poly-culture, regenerative methods, and soil-conscious cultivation work with ecological symbiosis rather than against it.
A transition toward humane and ecologically aligned farming strengthens long-term abundance. Confinement and cruelty diminish not only animals but the culture that permits them.
Ethically aligned farming nourishes soil, water, and animals together. A truly coherent natural system sustains its own abundance.
Forestry
Forests are living systems, not products. Extraction without regeneration diminishes both land and future. Clear-cut destruction for short-term gain undermines ecological balance and cultural continuity alike.
Reforestation, food forests, and long-term stewardship restore vitality where depletion once prevailed.
Ecologically restorative building practices that diversify materials reduce pressure on timber ecosystems and encourage innovation beyond traditional reliance.
Women’s Affairs
In an age that speaks fluently of equality, imbalance still lingers in practice.
Where women’s safety or participation is diminished, coherence is compromised and calls for recalibration.
Equity is realised when women’s voice, judgement, and leadership are realised as complementary.
Leadership reflects balance when capacity – not gender - shapes role.
Defence
A society that values life does not depend on weapons designed for indiscriminate destruction.
Arms exist for protection, not expansion; their purpose is defence, not dominance.
Security is strongest where neutrality and restraint are practised before force is considered.
Transparency in defence is not weakness. It is a measure of integrity.
Tourism
Peace is not advertised. It is practised and recognised.
A country that honours its ecology becomes a place worth visiting without persuasion.
Organic cultivation, intact ecosystems, and restraint in industry are not slogans but signals of care.
When air and ocean are kept clean, the land remains desirable - for those who live there and for those who spend time within it.
Livelihood follows where integrity is visible.
Youth Affairs
Children belong first within the care of their families. Intervention is rare and proportionate. When families separate, support follows the child, not the system.
Education serves to nurture growth, not monopolise it. Learning adapts to capacity and context.
Young people’s insight strengthens the institutions that shape them. Emerging technologies require caution, and those who profit from their use bear responsibility for their safety.
Statistics
Measure what is necessary. Excess data does not equal clarity.
Understanding begins with conversation, not abstraction or reduction to charts and numbers.
Land Information
Land does not require a department to exist.
Let every institution keep the map on its wall.
Energy
Future energy systems evolve away from dependence on finite and high-risk sources. Renewable and regenerative forms honour ecology while strengthening community resilience.
New approaches to energy belong when guided by responsibility to both human and ecological life.
New construction can generate as well as consume. Innovation seeks to reduce harm and transform toxic practises and products into usable forms of energy.
Fisheries
Marine and freshwater environments sustain life only where use is balanced with renewal. Aquaculture and aquaponics, when practised responsibly, can reduce pressure on wild stocks.
Extraction that depletes ecosystems weakens both sea and shore. Rehabilitation and replenishment of waterways are measures of long-term thinking.
Spawning grounds and juvenile life deserve protection. Industries that draw from the ocean carry responsibility for its renewal. Monitoring and intervention exists to preserve balance.
Research Science and Technology
Research belongs as much in forest and field as in laboratory. Innovation works with living systems before seeking to alter them. Diversity builds resilience more reliably than uniform design.
Scientific practice is bounded by consequence. Where experimentation risks irreversible harm, caution precedes advancement. Progress is measured not only by what can be achieved ethically, but by what is left untouched.
Technologies that enter the human body or intervene at environmental scale require necessity, consent, and restraint.
Consumer Affairs
Diversity in production strengthens resilience and choice. Local markets and local miles sustain community.
Clarity of source and detail in labelling respect consumer integrity. Where representation is false, accountability follows.
Customs
Where local production meets local demand, imports need not displace it. Trade exists to complement what is unavailable, not to override what is sufficient.
Border sanitation favours organic methods that reduce chemical and radiation burden under careful oversight.
Customs exists to preserve integrity, not to drift into suspicion.
Conservation
Protection of land and water begins with agricultural practise. An ideal society does not normalise harmful substances, and ecological safeguards are taught early. Human labour regains dignity when reward aligns with meaningful work. Combined with machinery, dedicated stewardship works with conservation as a whole.
Local Government
Build a bridge between local government and local community.
Bridge the divide between local, regional, and central government.
Political life is sustained by civic trust rather than corporate sponsorship
Iona finishes going through her Notes on Balance, puts down the pen and sighs. She lights her palo santo stick and offers the smoke to the universal great spirit. Sitting in stillness and winding down, t dawns on her that we have ‘just enough’ in terms of our relationship with the natural realm. Just enough – anything else is superfluous. When it comes to the human realm, the natural synchronicity of just enough meets distortion and it has afflicted Iona’s life and tagged her mind. This Notes on Balance meditation is like a lightning strike reset for her consciousness just like recapitulation settled it for the Yaqui brujos of Castaneda’s work.
’Obviously the essential spirit of the universe is the true governing force and the ideal society would simply work in harmony with universal forces,’ Iona laughs out loud. ‘The ideal harmony is in the mind and it synchronises with the core quantum field atmosphere,’ she follows. ‘Our clear psychological atmosphere is the divine spark upon which our dna is based.’
She finishes the document and shuts her eyes to rest in calm, after the deep contemplation. Reflection on the mechanical aspect of society was intense and that wasn’t even all of it. Beyond the block were all the peripheral mechanical elements ranging from agencies and services to tribunals, institutes, enterprises and commissions!
’No doubt about the remnants of the ‘divide and conquer’ methodology in that lot.’ Iona shakes her head sadly.
Her investment of energy into the process of consciously investigating the projection allows her to let go of any emotional ramifications and ties to the conceptual miasma. It’s clearly obvious to her after this exercise that the way terrestrial human society runs has no choice but to change as it is superseded by a deeper, subtler and all pervasive society! The only energy to align with in this realm is a Great Spirit that cosmologically and naturally multi-dimensionally synchronises. The wave beneath all form and the silence behind all expression. Due to this integral spiritual connection the people remain the independent sovereign authorities of their own lives. They have a direct holistic and holographic relationship with the natural field of the realm in any case!
Koan spent evenings out on the deck of the boat under the stars pondering what the real story was behind Iona’s sudden exit, stage left. He’d eventually secured a role on the crew of a cargo ship ferrying goods around the Oceanic islands. He still perceives Iona with crystalline tones in a space of clarity and has nothing but compassion for her and her journey. Based on the intensity of their relationship, he intuits that Iona was inspired by universal forces to take the road less travelled and embrace her true calling, in whatever manifestation it appeared.
It was mutual. They had challenged each other to be impeccable and authentic to the holistic self. Cruising steadily toward Apteryx, the place of fond memories of childhood holidays, Koan smiles recalling Iona’s definitive determination. He had assimilated much, just being around her savvy presence. She had showed him how to play their game, and instilled hope in him that he could achieve success, in spite of their rules.
Iona had kept the principle of Buddessa nature to the fore, in any kind of weather. She exemplified a strength of consciousness that was not swayed by circumstance. Thus Koan still hedged his bets, and was happy to concede the future was a mystery. He admired Iona’s ability to stay unfazed, and aspired to mirror that same even temperament. Koan had faith, sure - so do a multitude of folk, but there’s faith and then there’s unwavering faith.
Let it be. Wishing his friends on the boat farewell, swinging his pack over his shoulder and striding off into good old Apteryx, is a feeling of freedom Koan hasn’t experienced since the relationship. Apteryx courts an atmosphere of vibrancy and aliveness and Koan is actually looking forward to carving out a new start here. An ecological wonderland, it corresponds that the locals seem to be imbued with good spirited enthusiasm.
Koan likes to think that none of the Apteryxian folk would be deluded by the board game mentality evident in some other ‘Western’ places. The Game of Life – Monopoly syndrome just doesn’t ring true in a place so naturally charged with exuberance and wonder. Koan resonates with the philosophy of the local indigenous folk who consider themselves caretakers of the land and nurture a holistic relationship.
He’s got a decent shot at opportunities over this way and is well appreciative of Iona’s encouragement, especially remembering the day in the forest when they had spoken of Apteryx. It doesn’t take long for Koan to find himself a rustic cottage on a lifestyle block in the countryside. He loves the out of the way atmosphere in the outback hill country village community, where winter snow flows like cotton from the sky. Left on the cottage door by former tenants is an ethnic poster with the startling Cree Indian saying:
’Only when the last tree has died
and the last river been poisoned
and the last fish been caught
will we realise we cannot eat money’
Koan cannot imagine the native Indians reaction to white people arriving in their country and proceeding to slaughter more than fifty million buffaloes. He frowns, utterly perplexed, like so many of us, by the wanton destruction that defines human history. The cycle’s gone beyond full circle now and animals in the wild are still as capable of living balanced material lives as humans.
Koan’s life has led him to Apteryx to recommence, in total non-compliance to the fraudulent system of the hierarchy of fakeness. He stands far removed from the arenas of politics, finance, and media - fields that too easily amplify division and distort proportion. In Koan’s opinion there’s equal truth to the phrase, ‘power corrupts, absolute power corrupts absolutely,’ as there is to the phrase, ‘power corrupts, absolute resignation to power corrupts absolutely.’
To Koan, happiness has come to mean identifying with an evanescent and unlimited nature. Considering he’s not even going to be around for as long as some of the young trees by the river, he’s accepted that basic non attachment of mind, makes a great deal more sense than exclusive and limited attachment to some things or ideas. As the old Tao Te Ching saying goes, ‘Zhī zú zhě fù. He who knows contentment is rich.’
’Do you want it or not?’ was the first phrase Iona learnt in Canangan language. She knows it literally translates to, ‘will you have it, or not have it?’ and sometimes wonders if it can be read, ‘are you a have, or a have not?’
’I don’t want it,’ and ‘I won’t have it,’ were the second and third phrases she learnt.
The favourite Jayacedrun phrase Iona learnt, one day while walking around the hills with Koan was, “Goodbye is a long promise to meet again. I have no choice but to say to you today - goodbye.”
Often however, nothing was said, not in any language. Just a sublime silence shared that transcended any reason for words and meanings, that were not needed to describe feelings.
Remembering Koan’s off the cuff comment that time, with an enigmatic smile, when confused and at a loss Iona had said she wasn’t in a great space. ‘Yes you are.’
That was why she really respected him. Where others made up lies or far-fetched stories, he wasn’t afraid of truth, no matter how it sounded. Iona’s glad she’d timed the universe well enough to be there, at the Perennial Gardens Beyond. ‘Did Koan see straight through her trips of abstraction?,’ she grins, not void nor vague, just void of vagary.
The further Iona progressed through the field of inter-cultural interaction, the clamour of theoretical understanding cleared to create space for the unconditioned side of communication. The intentions of the heart simply seemed to reign over and above any verbal contrivances. Far superior to lots of words, truer knowing seemed to involve lots of silence.
Iona sits here alone and unoccupied but not without tears of silent joy for this lifetimes’ opportunities to have experienced the delights of complete and unabashed misunderstandings, set alongside quite contrary inferences of communicative bliss, interspersed by collaborations of meaning and intention, waxing and waning rhythms and tones.
All Iona can really consider having learnt on her journey, is that non-discriminatory kindness is the greatest thing, whether that kindness is in your language, their language or that language. She’s happy to have learnt that because it’s more important than anything she knows. On deeper contemplation, it seems like one of the only things that she really knows. Recollecting her journey leaves her with the ubiquitous echo of shared happiness.
When Iona really declared to herself, ‘never mind, it doesn’t matter,’ any negative energy just dissipated back into the elements. When she truly accepted belonging with Great Spirit, everything just let go and it felt like standing on a cloud. It wasn’t anything said or realised, it was experienced, and it was more potent than anything else she’d experienced.
Wandering on round the place, Iona traipses down a riverside that flows through a valley, pacing through some streets that run through a town. It’s snowing like flowing cotton on the plateau. One receives nothing yielding to the Tao.
Tao Te Ching(Chapter 32)
’The Tao, eternally nameless
Its simplicity, although imperceptible
Cannot be treated by the world as subservient
If the sovereign can hold on to it
All will follow by themselves
Heaven and Earth, together in harmony
Will rain sweet dew
People will not need instruction
They will balance naturally
In the beginning, there were names
Names came to exist everywhere
One should know when to stop
Knowing when to stop, thus avoiding danger
The existence of the Tao in the World
Is like streams and rivers flowing home to the ocean.’
Koan is quite content whiling away a few weeks tending to the rambling yet well-established cottage garden, trimming overgrown areas, weeding and mulching. The previous tenants gave him a healthy head start and the garden is nearly producing enough food to be self sustainable. The small village community produces enough food for al of them and sharing, swapping, or bartering food for work is commonplace.
In between times he starts to get to know people in the community and is impressed by their practical focus and can-do attitude. The bountiful natural environment seems to have drawn together a basket full of gems: well intentioned, conscientious, enthusiastic beings who have a genuine awareness of their naturally inter-connected identity. He appreciates how thoroughly prepared they are to live basically and deal with the structural and procedural issues of this illusory world.
In the evenings Koan can become nostalgic, remembering the good life at home before the whole drama, the couple of years living rough in the outback, the intense and fast paced Symphya, and the enigmatic twist to the perennial gardens forever relationship with Iona. Recalling one of their countless philosophical conversations, Koan takes out his notebook and tries to recall the key ideas to transcribe, meanwhile wondering where Iona is now.......…
Homeland exists beyond boundary and census. It is ecological unity expressed through diversity, a field in which every species participates. Within it rests an old indigenous knowing: that land is living, and that people arise with it. The stories of origin speak of a time when realm and ancestor emerged together, and to grow with the land is to grow in coherence.
The rhythms of earth reverberate through sky and body alike; song, law, and livelihood move within the same pattern. In this recognition, freedom is no longer separation but belonging. Custodians have a relationship to the land through guardianship. Resources are not commodities but gifts held in trust: water, flora, fauna — elements of inter-connection rather than possession.
There is an unwritten covenant with Earth that requires no contract and no currency. It is honoured in care, reciprocity, and restraint. In that covenant, wholeness is natural.
These days Iona tries not to draw conclusions. She doesn’t want for anything, except for peace and freedom to proliferate through the lands. Whatever happens, Earth maintains her place at the top of the food chain.
Iona’s developing the capacity to conceptualise without conceptions. She’s dropping those thoughts like bass lines, shifting them out through the soundscapes, quanta travel quicker than light.
Iona sends Koan an e-mail about everything and lets him know she’s on her way back to, wherever he is. She wants them to create a new future together, based on the natural understanding of the all permeating love they share.
The only way to the oasis was through it.
In Tolkien’s classic tale of Middle Earth, when Gandalf and Pippin were chatting in the city of Minas Tirith surrounded by warfare raging around them, the penny dropped for Iona and something just clicked in her brain.
’“End? No the journey doesn’t end here. Death is just another path, one that we all must take. The grey curtain of the world rolls back and turns to silver glass. And then you see it.”
“What Gandalf? See what?”
“White shores... and beyond. A far green country... under a swift sunrise.”’
Koan receives Iona’s e-mail, becomes oblivious to the thoughts of the day, and doesn’t notice he’s crying. He spends the next few days floating on a dream cloud of happiness and exuberance. The joy in his heart is incomprehensible.
It’s the doctrine of transcendence that really resonates with Iona, Koan muses. Just strikes a chord with her soul. Sometimes life is so beyond understanding. Iona was one of the few he met who really knew the feeling – the fleeting nature of this whirling dreaming.
Koan could never fathom it before, but now he gets the idea that consciousness really dances to the beat of its higher self. It’s a reassuring security taking this into account as just going with the flow is easier than trying to think his way through. The sun and stars floating past remind him that it’s contrary to reality to court stagnation on any matter, as that point of reference is constantly altering.
Koan wonders about the universes’ perspective of us?
Some contemplation later he considers, ‘Native people weren’t ignorant enough to have to discover gravity.’
Later he muses,
when one arrives
they had to leave
to get there
Waiting at the taxi stand by a few herbaceous plants, Iona is surprised to see that some people still actually read the mainstream newspaper. She can’t help but wonder how many trees they fell everyday for that nonsense. ‘And here we are, governed by the same law that governs branches,’ she muses, before getting into the taxi to the airport on a bright and clear morning.
As the plane jets out over the ocean and settles into a cruising speed, Iona relaxes, really happy to be on her way toward new horizons with Koan. She drifts away into dreamy contemplation remembering that the mind’s true nature is clear light, like the sky – the bird is in the sky but the sky is not the bird. Sure the early bird catches the worm, but when it gets back to the nest a whole bunch of other birds aren’t waiting there to tax it.
Arriving safely in picturesque and naturally abundant Apteryx, Iona’s reminded of the universal coincidence that caused her journey to merge with Koan’s. It’s a decent bus ride for Iona through long sweeping valleys, alongside majestic sub alpine lakes and through rugged forested hill country terrain before arriving at a space where a secluded old village is set, like a shining jewel. They didn’t meet at the airport by arrangement. They specifically wanted to greet each other where they were going to start their new lives.
Koan is standing there smiling broadly and they both recall meeting on the park bench at the Perennial Gardens Beyond. They hug, and it feels like plants must feel on their daily re-greeting of the sun, or in their devoted celebration of rain after a dry spell, or when they notice their progeny growing up around them.
On a brisk Apteryxian evening, Koan and Iona relax in the happy serenity of each others company as autumnal hues fade into the sky. They sit together at his cottage, marvelling at the ocean of stars,
“Take your time Iona, rest – we can speak at our leisure.” Koan assures quietly.
“We have no leisure Koan, long live our leisure,” Iona smiles wistfully.
At dawn in almost Aurora like light Iona shares what went through her mind while sitting in the coffee bar drinking a Swirl piccolo. Koan listens with rapt encouragement, proud of her authenticity. He tells her about quitting his job and a lonely boat trip across the grey havens. They constantly return to the inability of words and mental concepts to illustrate the impossible. The spirit of natural mystery remains strong for them and more than directing discussion, Koan and Iona are happy to go with the flow. Iona hands him her notebook, open at Just Enough – Iona’s notes on Balance.
“Hope that will help you get what I needed to resolve”, she says in heartfelt tones.
Reading it slowly, Koan acknowledges her profound shift and says, “so, it’s not so much a matter of tailoring guiding principles but accepting that we are guided by natural principles.”
Iona smiles.
He gives her a piece of writing that shares the Ethos statement of the community they’re in now:
We recognise a loving Great Spirit as the source of all life. Nothing is ultimately owned; all is held in trust. We are custodians of our bodies, our land, our relationships, and our actions.
Free will is sacred. Each person carries inherent dignity and spiritual integrity. Truth, honour, forgiveness, and tolerance guide our conduct.
Property is stewardship, not possession. Resources are used responsibly and passed forward intact. Community exists to protect spiritual and material well-being without coercion.
Justice arises from self-accountability and respect for the freedom of others. Sovereignty is not domination, but alignment with the living whole.
Care, restraint, and reciprocity are the foundations of our shared life.
“Wonderful,” Iona says and they hug, determined to live their own truth – acknowledging the inherently pathless truth that exists everywhere.
Today dawned bright which was sweet timing, like Iona’s favourite star constellation wandering over the horizon. The first day of the rest of there lives is heralded by melodic birdsong on a fairly crisp autumn morning. A sense of magic and limitless potential sharpens the hues and tones in and around the garden where herbs, vegetables and fruit of many types are represented, glimmering with starry-dew splendour.
In the mid morning they sit under an old plum tree and share a fresh and delicious brunch in happy and blissful spirits. Koan grins saying that, “if the tree could talk, all it would have to say is share and share alike”.
Iona replies that, “there’s no fine print in the arrangement with Mother Nature, Gaia. In fact there’s no contract and no strings attached!” she emphasises, laughing.
“There are so many common grounds and community gardens around the village area that reflect that same sentiment,” Koan is happy to share.
“You know, one of the best things about harvesting, and sharing fruit and vegetables in the community is that it has nothing to do with money!” Iona exclaims.
“Definitely, give a person a piece of fruit to feed them. Give them a seedling and they will feed future generations.”
“That’s it!” Iona grins, finishing brunch, and scanning the abundant surrounds. “Fruit trees are perfect examples of the collaborative spirit with which human beings grow collectively, for community benefits.”
“On that note I’d like to show you around the area if you’re keen,” Koan smiles.
“I thought you’d never ask,” Iona laughs warmly.
Later in the afternoon they wander around some hill tracks through natural forest country. Both enjoying and appreciating the joy of being, the feeling of great friendship and camaraderie.
Just as the presence of abundant nature supersedes the need for money, so the feeling of essential being supersedes the process of thought and correlates with universal belonging. Although belonging or being can be described by words and indicated by thoughts, it is an experience, and a quantum holographic one of authenticity and wonder at that. The sensation of truth or wisdom that spirals between the gate of phenomena and the vitality of space is a return to oneness and true identity.
As Iona and Koan continue onward, the forest of quantum waveform flora and fauna seems quite effortless. They both recognise the natural synchronicity of spirit manifesting as the expression of freedom. Koan and Iona belong in an endless jungle of spaciousness and pure potential. In the experience of ‘suchness,’ they know being so totally, that self disappears in the process.
The Natural Synchronicity Project
The wider Natural Synchronicity journey continues at:
https://naturalsynchronicity.com
There you will find an exploration of the Origin and Resonance Glyphs, the Codices of the Vault, and the practical application of Ethiculture through land stewardship and lived work.
Leonard Edwards