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The general belief is that when this temple finally collapses, it will be
sucked away into the world beyond the veil and there will be nothing left here
at all.'
'Do you believe that?'
'When you believe it, tell me,' Michael replied.
They went through to the inner courtyard. Michael said, 'Please take off your
clothes and then sit on the floor. I must light the incense.'
'Do we have to be naked?' Randolph asked.
Michael was already stepping out of his shorts. 'To begin with, yes. It's very
difficult for a novice to pass through the spiritual levels of death when he
is carrying any physical reminders of the real world. Remember that we will be
going out of this world, and we have to go out of this world in the same
condition as we entered it.'
Rather reluctantly Randolph undressed and folded his clothes neatly beside one
of the shrines. He eased himself onto the stone floor and waited while Michael
went to each of the incense burners and lit them. Thick, pungent clouds of
spices and sandalwood began to drift across the courtyard, half-obscuring
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Michael's lean, bare figure.
When all the burners were lit, Michael came over and sat facing Randolph
cross-legged, his hands spread out with the palms facing upward.
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'Is your mind at peace?' he asked.
'I think so.'
'Your mind must be completely at peace. It must be a bright blue lake whose
surface is utterly tranquil. You must think of nothing; you must not even
wonder if you are at peace or not. You must ask no questions, doubt no
doubts.'
Randolph sat still and tried to empty his mind. It was not as easy to do as
Michael had made it sound. He could picture the bright blue lake but its
surface was ruffled by fretful little questions. Was he really going to be
able to see Marmie and the children? Was he making a fool of himself, sitting
here bare-ass naked in a stone-floored courtyard in Bali? Would Sun-Taste
allow him more time to make up the shortfall in supplies? Why was his back
aching so much? How the hell had he managed to get himself into this? And for
fifty thousand dollars too.
Michael said, 'You're too agitated. Your mind is like alphabet soup. Calm
down. Make a deliberate effort to calm down, a really strenuous effort. Then
relax. After the second or third attempt, your mind should remain calm.'
Randolph closed his eyes and tried to force all the jumbled questions and
fragmented worries out of his head. At last darkness and emptiness began to
supervene and he relaxed.
'That's better,' Michael said. 'You may have to do that again in a moment,
when the thoughts start forcing their way back in again. But next time you
will find it much easier to dismiss them.'
Randolph opened his eyes. Michael was watching him expressionlessly.
'This morning we are not going to enter the region of the dead,' Michael said,
'but I am going to take you to the first spiritual plane so you will
understand both the togetherness and the separateness of your body and your
soul.'
Randolph was aware of the doubts and the questions
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babbling back into his mind and he made another fierce effort to quiet them.
'Sit in the way that I am sitting,' Michael instructed him. 'Keep your eyes
open, look straight ahead and try to picture your spirit as something that has
its own freedom, a life force that is occupying your body simply as a way of
manifesting itself in the physical world. It will help you if you repeat the
mantra Om, the sacred word that embodies all the divine principles of Hindu
theology.'
Randolph sat in the way that Michael was sitting, his hands outstretched, his
back balanced and perfectly straight. Under normal circumstances he would have
found this position desperately uncomfortable. He remembered sitting on the
floor at a Japanese restaurant in San Francisco and ending up with a backache
for a week afterwards. But this morning, somehow the position seemed to be
perfect. He did his best to keep his mind empty and he stared straight ahead,
and when Michael prompted him, he began to hum the mantra. 'Ommmmm . . .'
He hummed on and on, keeping his brain as calm as he could. It was strange but
the humming of the mantra seemed to set up an extraordinary vibration within
him, as if his bones were resonating. It was infinitely tedious, humming and
humming like this, and yet he found it peculiarly difficult to stop. Somehow
the idea of stopping seemed to be unpleasant, almost threatening.
'Ommmm . . .'
He could not imagine what to expect. The temple courtyard appeared to remain
the same as before, with its crumbled rows of shrines. Dried leaves still
rustled across the flagstones and incense-smoke still wafted thickly in the
air. The humming went on and on, overwhelming everything: the traffic, the
sound of distant music, the roar of a plane above. Randolph felt as if his
whole being were vibrating, as if he would shatter into dust if he tried to
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stop humming the mantra.
He stared at Michael. Then he stared at him again more closely. He wondered if
the incense was making his eyes
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r
water or if he needed to wear his glasses more often. But Michael's outline
appeared to be blurred; it was as if hot air were rising between them, or as
if Michael were lying just below the surface of a clear but quickly running
stream.
He wanted to say something, to ask Michael what was happening, but his mouth
refused to do anything but hum the mantra. Then, right in front of his eyes, a
liquid kind of creature slithered out of the top of Michael's head and
spiralled off into the smoky air. Randolph followed it with his eyes as it
spun and danced and hovered over the courtyard, and then as it slowly returned
towards Michael, and he was stunned with fascination and fear. The liquid
creature was actually Michael; it looked like Michael except that it was
translucent and completely fluid. Randolph could distinguish Michael's [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]