Lotus Bud

I’m on the beach, walking south along the tideline. Temperate day, feels like spring, but the ocean is still chilly. Soon I’m climbing the large rocks of the breakwater. I make my way out to the far end, and sit, watching the featureless, ever moving, ocean. I find I have a leather hat among my possessions. Wide-brimmed, well-worn, and fitting me comfortably. No clouds above me, so I don the hat.

“Just where did you get that dapper hat? It completely becomes you.” I don’t have to turn around to identify the speaker.

“It just showed up with the rest of my gear, No Man. I think it’s something I had before, but forgot about until now. It fits me. It fits me well. By the way…” I lean backwards to look up at him standing over me. “You’ll get your immaculate suit dirty with the ocean spray. Salt will destroy the color.”

I see he is wearing the face of the “Good Guy Lucifer” meme that’s been floating around. He wears it perfectly, of course. The sight sends me into a fit of giggles as I think on why I was originally terrified of No Man.

He sits down on the salt crusted rocks beside me. I note nothing clings to his clothes. He looks at me, with a perfect smile, and teases. “You don’t approve? I can wear any face, you know. Even yours.”

I look at him, without fear, and smile. “Ravenwoman already beat you to it. You, who aren’t human, can appear as any human. But can you wear the face of the Embroidered Man?”

“I could.” He is quite sure of his answer. “But you would still be unable to see it.” He smiles at my over-dramatic pout. “Because his face would be distracting. You focus too much on the visual, and don’t realize the importance of other senses until later.”

In the middle of my chuckling, he repeats a question that a friend had asked me yesterday. I fall silent and stare at him. The persistent ocean breeze shifts some of his hair out of place, but the hair falls back into perfect position. He looks at me, smiles, and asks the question again. “It is a question you need to answer. No one needs to know the answer, but you, but it is a question you need to answer.”

I face forward and stare out into the shifting waves. The waves are plentiful and splash noisily against the rocks. Where my friend allowed me to dance around the answer and avoid it entirely, No Man does not have that grace. “Come, we should go someplace more quiet, or you’ll use the ocean’s roar as excuse not to answer.”

I blink as I turn to glare at him. In that moment of darkness, he transports me to No Where. I find myself seated on a granite boulder, in the same position I held at the breakwater. No Man is now seated opposite of me on another boulder. The void of No Where removes the lingering scent of saltwater and wet sand. I do not answer him, though. When my friend asked me that question, I had to leave the room. I had to confront myself in pieces, and even then, it was more an evasive motion than settling.

No Man asks the question again. I know I can’t leave unless he allows it. But I don’t want to think on the question, on the answer, or on the bitterness and resentment that has bound my hypocritical tongue. The effort turns my stomach, and I feel ill.

He asks again. So patient, so in control, so knowing what effect the question has on me. I try to force the question out of my mind, but it only swells to dominate my thinking. I feel nauseous. My face is numb. I know I’m now in fight-or-flight mode, and I have chosen to flee. I excuse myself to throw up. “I’m sorry, but I can’t.” I stand from the boulder and turn to face away. I’m sure I’m about to vomit. I turn my back on No Man, but when I look up, he’s before me. I speak a bullshit answer. One that would be accepted in polite company to be the final answer. One that would be accepted by close friends as the non-answer it really is.

The pain doubles me over. Worse than menstrual cramps, on par with labor pains. My insides feel like they are twisting and knotting on themselves.

He asks me again with a steady voice as if he was asking me for the first time, and not the fourth time. I answer incompletely. I speak the letter of the matter, and not the spirit driving it. The pain wells up from some dark place inside me, washing over me with the shock of ice water. I feel myself start to pitch forward and pass out before I hit the ground.

My face is bruised from the contact. I know I was unconscious for only a brief moment. He stands over me, his hands clasped behind his back, his face a study in patience. He stands over me, and asks me the question, once more. Quivering on the ground, I look up at him in tears.

I answer the question, truthfully and sincerely. With the answer, came the silence acknowledgement, of how my bitterness and resentment had twisted my vision, and my thoughts of, those referred to in the question. I had been enjoying my sense of superiority, and its falsehood had been revealed to me.

The vomiting begins immediately. I don’t try to hold it back. I don’t try to avoid splattering No Man. I know what this effluence really is. And I have to let it go, all of it. When the retching finally ends, I struggle to my knees and move back from the putrid substance.

“Done?” He is ever so patient, and just a bit condescending. I nod. I see the swiftness of a hand gesture, and the very rocks under us devour and destroy the mess I have made. “Once rejected, it is nothing. It only existed here, because you needed to see it externalized.” I nod again, but with only the barest of understanding.

“Okay. We should return now. You have something to do.” He pulls me to my feet and gives me a bit of momentum. In reflex, I start walking forward. I walk back onto the far end of the breakwater. No Man is already there, looking down at something on the rocks. As I clamber over the last few rocks between us, I see my dessicated body. I stare at it oddly for a few seconds, wondering when did I die here, and how long was I in No Where. “I think you know what to do with these remains.”

My body is laying on its back, on its frayed and weather beaten cloak. Surprisingly, only a few feathers have been lost to weathering. The position is not one of pain or surprise. It’s as if I had leaned back to stretch in the sunlight, and passed quietly at the height of indulging relaxation. No Man watches as I collect the crumbling body parts from the rocks. The cloak is intact, but my other clothing is almost gone. What is left breaks apart as I manipulate the limbs, or try to. The legs and arms break at knees and elbows. My corpse is dry and brittle. I am able to bundle the remains in the cloak with ease.

He does not offer to help me as I clamber a few stones away from him. He allows me to build a small gap between us, then nimbly follows me off the breakwater. “I’m taking it to Ravenwoman.” I throw the statement over my shoulder, even though I know he already knows where I’m going to jump to. I hear him behind me, but he says nothing.

Now back on the sand, I turn to face him. No Man is standing on the rocks of the breakwater, several feet from me and a few feet above. “You could probably beat me there, but I can’t take you. Not intentionally, nor by tagging along. I go alone.”

“I know.” He smiled with Lucifer’s face. “How nice of you to be polite about it, though.”

My turn to smile and nod. “Well, how could I not be polite, to such a handsome gentleman.” I turn, close my eyes, and will myself into Ravenwoman’s boneyard.

Her ravens are plentiful, huge, and watching. I note No Man does not accompany me after all. The ravens announce my arrival, calling her to come see what I’ve brought. As I walk through the boneyard, carrying my bundled remains, they guide my path to a small clearing. In the middle is a pile of bones. (Bones ready for the fire. Bones needing the fire.) At the top of the pyre is a hollow, just the right size for my bundle.

Before I could lower the wrapped remains, Ravenwoman appears, demanding to inspect the bundle first. She unwraps it as I hold it. Poking and prodding, she chatters to herself as she inspects the dried pieces. She rewraps it, chuckling to herself as she fingers the feathers. Nodding, she steps out of my way. I put the bundle on the pyre. I feel a fire welling within me. Allowing it to flow upward and outward, I light the bones with the Devouring Fire. Before I can back away, I feel a different fire welling from within. Knowing better than to try and withhold it, I allow this other fire to pour from me as well. A Purging Fire intertwines with the Devouring Fire already playing among the bones. I am surprised to see it, considering how hard it was for me to answer No Man’s (and my friend’s) question.

I feel this bonefire is special. I try to Sing the bones, but something is caught in my throat. I open my mouth, but a twisted feeling seizes me each time. Remembering the final steps in burning the jersey, I stop resisting the nausea and vomit on the ground before the fire. Before Ravenwoman can display her displeasure at the mess, I reach down with my own hands and scoop up the muck and surrounding dirt. I toss the blackened mixture into the fire, much like one tosses scraps to their dogs. I Sing the bones. I Dance the bones. The fire responds, and by the time I am done, the bundle has been utterly consumed. I stand watching the fire dancing among the remaining bones, not noticing Ravenwoman has moved to directly behind me. With smooth motion and silent ease, she picks me up and throws me on the very pyre that consumed my corpse. The fire embraces me and removes me from her world.

I am in the Realm of Air. I know there is no ground. There are only winds, clouds, and the forces that exist here. I’m in freefall, but I know I’ll fall forever. I enjoy the sensation for a few minutes, then turn and will my feather cloak to embrace me. I change form into a large raven and play in the shifting winds. I feel the winds returning the glee, and shift back into my human form. The cloak has now become a pair of great black wings. For some time, I play with the winds, rising and falling, gliding and racing.

I feel a particular presence surround me. I know it, and call out to it by the name it has given me. It materializes into a visual presence before me. The other winds and spirits swirl around it in homage. Spiraling upward, they allow me to circle it in slow orbits. Usually, it is too bright for me to look directly at. This time, I can see all of it without glare. It holds still for me, allowing me to see the full extent of its manifestation.

There are features I had long suspected, but was never able to confirm or deny. Some I had seen from the beginning, but did not understand their significance. I call it by the name it has given me, and ask it directly to tell me what it is.

To my surprise, it tells me plainly. After some back and forth questions, I realize who this air spirit is, and more importantly, what it is. I almost collapse my wings in shock.

“I have answered your questions, my friend. Would you answer mine? Tell me, if you knew what I was when I first came to you, would you have accepted my help?” This is a fair question, and I answer truthfully that I would not have accepted it. I would have fled at once. “Now that you know the truth of me, do you reject me?” The usually evasive spirit asking me a direct question? Well, fuck.

“No, I don’t reject you. You haven’t given me reason to do so. I had to grow up a little before you could show me what you really are. I still count you friend. You haven’t tried to wound me or cause trouble. Your maker certainly knew of our relationship. I see no problem here.” I continued circling the gigantic spirit. Its multitude of eyes continued watching me, I was always in sight. Which reminded me of a persistent, nagging, curiosity. “Tell me, you of the many winds, were you there? That day? Were you among the number that watched me when the sky was rent in two?”

It laughs. A bright, airy, delicate laughter that shook me to my bones. “Yes. I was. But you could not see me then.” Its answer brought tears and smiles to my face. It opened its mouths and sang. I could not understand the words, but they removed the tears from my face and strengthened my wings. I accepted the spirit for what it was, without guilt, without remorse. It dissolved its manifestation into great beams of light and rushes of wind.

The disruption collapses the air column around me, throwing me into a free fall. Before I could recover from the sudden drop, I feel the subtle shift of changing worlds. Forgetting that most worlds do have a “surface” and a “ground”, I don’t deploy my wings and fall into a shallow pond at high speed, back first. As I was falling, my ears tell me there was something large and dense approaching me at high speed. A second before impact, I think “Oh shit, the ground.”.

When I wake up, I’m partially sunk into mud and completely covered in marsh plants. A single eye, as wide as my arm is long, is looking at me. The Gardenmaster watching me, with amusement in its main eye. I look above and note I can’t see the other, less physical eyes that I could before. As I return fully to my senses, I note the plants have accelerated in growth. I’m trapped and bound securely by the lotus.

Despite not having a mouth, I can understand the Gardenmaster with ease. “Don’t hold it inside. You have to release it, or it will poison you.” Well, I can understand the words, anyway. What it is referring to, escapes me though. I’m too busy panicking because the roots of the plants that hold me have pierced my body. I can feel the lotus growing into my veins, around my lungs and heart, spreading throughout my body from the inside. I tremble as my head is forced back, and a solitary lotus bud starts to grow out my gaping mouth. Somehow, I’m not choking. Satisfied at my transformation, the Gardenmaster closes its main eye. As it does, I lose connection to my body and am removed from all physical sensation.

I’m jumping through scene after scene of pain, physical and/or emotional. Episodes of public humiliation are quickly followed by instances of physical distress. Faster and faster the memories come. Each one a legitimate moment of this human life, each one an ice cold drenching of pain and emotion. I can’t get my bearing and the flashes of dark emotion start to melt into each other.

Suddenly, No Man is there, grabbing me and pulling me out of the thickening darkness. I don’t know where I am. Only that he has pulled me free from a tar-like pit. I gasp for air, cling tightly to him, and scream in primal fright.

I’m tied to a trellis vertically, head up towards the sky. My arms are tied outward to cross beams by tightening lengths of ivy-like vines that continue growing around me and the trellis. My chest is tied to the trellis in rough loops. They are tight enough to hold me fast, and tight enough to make breathing unpleasant. My eyes are open, but my head is hanging down. I can see I am back in the lotus world. I’m tied high enough on the trellis that my feet are clear of the waters surface. Lotus plants gather on the water’s surface below me.

An ambulant tendril shoves my chin up. I’m looking at a giant eye, but not the eye of the Gardenmaster I know. This one has nothing but contempt for me. “Animals do not belong here. Certainly not animals like you. You will die here, slowly, and your decaying body will feed the garden.” I am confused by the hostility.

Before I can question, it leaves in a great hurry. The Gardenmaster I know has found me and is greatly displeased with its brethren’s treatment of me. It unties me, and holds me gently. I am utterly exhausted and unable to pull away. Carrying me with its many tendrils, floating above the surface of the waters, it takes me back to its territory and lays me gently in the shallow pond. At once, the lotus plants grow over me again. Binding me with thickening roots and repiercing my body, I do not struggle against them. I know now, what they are helping me purge. This time, the Gardenmaster entwines my body in its tendrils made roots, holding me firmly in place below it. As the lotus bud grows up my throat again, I follow its lead, and close my eyes in surrender.

A sudden scent of dry and dusty air announces I have changed worlds again. I open my eyes to find I am sitting on a carefully arranged pile of bones in the boneyard. As I look around me, studying the arrangement, I recognize the significance. I mutter about my ego interfering, trying to give me a sense of importance I do not deserve. Ravenwoman is standing before me, her stance is that of attendant. We are surrounded by her ravens. She says nothing, but chuckles as she walks away.

Make of that, what you may.