The Key (A Fairytale) - Chapter 4: Nothing Left To Lose (Part 6)

I found the dog lying almost dead near the path. A crossbow arrow, a type not used by the villagers, had silenced him. Somebody was after me, and apparently wanted the bounty all for himself.

My instincts told me to slowly back away and move toward the denser part of the forest, but just as I took a step, I felt a pinch. It didn't feel at all like an arrow, but sure enough, there was an arrow through my side with its feathers sticking out near my naval and the tip protruding from my back. I immediately dove into the bushes before another arrow could find its mark, convinced that only one assailant was involved. If there would have been more than one, an avalanche of arrows would have found their mark. It must be a solitary bounty hunter, just as I had thought. Unfortunately, it wasn't the first arrow to violate this body; I was used to it, so I rolled into the forest, broke off the feathers, reached behind and pulled it out.

I felt nothing. I never did in battle. My anger overrode any other feelings and masked any pain that I might otherwise feel. The only thing I felt was "sorry" for the one who shot me - because he was a dead man.

I sat there not moving or breathing. With blood running down my leg, I listened for a telltale sound. And there it was; a rustling sound, unnoticeable to an untrained ear. I silently circled, quiet as a stalking cat until I came up behind a robed man hiding in a bamboo thicket. He turned in alarm and put up his hands.

"Please don't harm me. I saw the one who shot you - a warrior from Ayatana. When he saw you pull the arrow from your side, he became afraid and ran off."

He then became silent and looked at me with pleading eyes.

He was definitely a key seeker; at least he wore the robe, and a clay pot lay next to him.

"I am Moosawa," he said, smiling thinly, and then he invited me to sit down, and offered to look at my injury when we both heard somebody running toward us.

"He leaves me for only a few moments and look what happens," a John said breathlessly, as he inspected the damage.

"My name is Moosawa," said the key seeker, introducing himself and bowing to a John. "A warrior has shot your friend, but the assailant has fled."

A John looked at the wound and asked me if it was serious.

"I have had worse," I replied.

"We are fortunate that you were so near," a John said to Moosawa. "You are welcome to join us if you wish."

"Oh, if only I could," Moosawa replied, "I am sure it would be delightful; however I am expected in the community of key seekers by next week, as I have some important duties to perform, so I must be on my way right now, actually, unless I can help you with this wounded key seeker."

"Well, then thank you my friend," said A John, "but we can manage. We will be journeying to the community before the rains as well, and perhaps we will meet again."

"Of course," said Moosawa, "I was just fortunate to be in the area and witness the attempt on this poor man's life. It is none of my business why someone would want to harm him, and I would be better off not knowing, I'm sure, so I will continue on my journey and will perhaps see you during the monsoon." With this, the key seeker bowed and walked hurriedly down the path.

A John shook his head, looked at me and said, "You are certainly full of surprises! Let's take care of that wound."

The village doctor had a great time for a few weeks, visiting a John and me once a day in the forest to treat my wound, and in return always receiving a few words of wisdom from a John for his kindness. Every morning, a John would take both of our pots into the village and return with my meal, taking care of me as he would a brother.

One day, after I was feeling better, I asked a John to tell me more about the "self."

"When you study the self, with the help of your inner work," a John began, "you will slowly and intimately become familiar with this ‘self'. Once you become familiar with the self, you will then someday be able to forget the self, and when you forget all about the self, you will be very close to finding your key. Now, do you want to learn about this self through your own experience, or will you take my word for it?"

What did he mean by that? I was confused. I had assumed that I knew all about myself (Look! Here I am! I'm a key seeker!), and never really looked into it, so I said, "I would rather find out for myself."

"Excellent!" A John wholeheartedly agreed. "Never believe anything you cannot prove true for yourself. So, to learn about your ‘self' and determine if you are real, where do you begin? You must begin by inquiring deep inside and investigating this body and mind to see if it is real, but since your mind is what you will be using to investigate itself, it won't be completely honest with you. Your mind will be like a fox guarding the hen house; you can't trust it, and the results of the investigation will be flawed and inconclusive."

"But my mind is all I have to work with. What do I do now?" I asked with a puzzled look.

"What can you do to investigate this matter?" He prodded. "It is very important, you know. Is the king real or not? Who or what is this self? What is the answer? The answer is to go to the Source! Once your mind touches Reality, your mind will become honest and tell the truth so you can believe the results of the investigation. So, the next question is: how do we touch this Source with our mind?"

Wait a minute. How did he know that I was a King? I had to admit I was lost. Everything was mixed up. I had no choice but to follow my heart and my heart said to trust this little man. He was my only hope.

"It is extraordinarily easy to touch the Source," he exclaimed, "we simply calm the mind with the help of the inner work so that the Source can surface. The Source is inside all of us, right here (a John pointed to his heart). It is not hovering in the sky or sitting in the heavens. It is very close, and simply needs encouragement to make itself known; it needs some support so that it knows we are thinking of more than ourselves for a moment. When we receive a present, it must be unwrapped - it must be opened to see what is inside. Similarly, with the assistance of the inner work, we must open our minds so that the Source can, likewise, make its presence known."

"How do I open my mind?" I asked, but before a John could answer, we were surprised by a villager emerging from the bush.

"Please excuse me, a John," she said, "but soldiers are camped not far from here. We are watching them and will alert you if they come closer."

After a John thanked the woman, he turned to me and said, "It is time for us to leave this part of the forest. After we make our rounds in the village tomorrow, we will travel to a safer area."

The next morning, we discussed our plight after our meal. "Listen carefully," said a John, "the reason we are leaving is because we choose to protect ourselves, and protect the villagers as well from unnecessary danger. This can be a lesson, for this is what we constantly do in life; make choices. Life is a battle to ease our invariable dissatisfactions, whether these dissatisfactions are affecting us now or whether they are perceived as causing us difficulty in the future, and for this reason we are constantly trying to resolve this dissatisfaction by making choices.

"We could say that our entire life is spent making choices, desperately trying to be happy as we choose between doing this or doing that, eating this or eating that, going here or going there. This is our life: continuous, endless choices. When we practice the inner work and observe our mind, we see how these pervasive choices create conflict, which in turn creates confusion and stress. Should I do this or should I do that?

"These thoughts in our mind usually begin as a single picture or image before developing into a series of images with two opposing voices arguing over what to do. Because of this incessant, internal squabbling, we are not integrated. And since we are never in agreement with ourselves, we become fragmented, caught within the conflicts of these endless decisions with a bit of us here and a bit of us there. This internal bickering then becomes all pervasive, compulsive, and addictive."

"I can't argue with what you are saying, a John. Things seem to go on so mechanically, so endlessly. When something happens, I react. This happens - I do that. That happens - I do this. I'm really never in control of anything."

"Key seekers attempt to curb these reactionary, compulsive actions by simplifying things," a John continued. "We restrict our outward activity while at the same time calming our minds so that we can come closer to the Source. We accomplish this by living a life that strictly limits our choices, and when we do make a choice, we compromise and strike a balance between the extremes of the alternatives. We don't stop eating, nor do we gorge ourselves. We find a way somewhere in the middle of the situation, like mixing our food together before eating it; rice cakes with the grasshoppers, so that we eat enough to sustain the body, but don't encourage the mind to desire more than the body needs. It's a conciliation.

"In our situation, we could remain here and cause bloodshed, or we could travel very far away to a distant country where we could never be found but also where we might not be welcomed as key seekers. As a compromise to these two alternatives, we will move away from the present danger but remain in this part of the forest where we are respected and supported.

"As a key seeker's inner work develops, he or she begins to understand the addictive and compulsive nature of the thoughts that create these choices. These thoughts result in the endless conflict and reaction that keeps the Source from surfacing, even though it is always here patiently waiting for us to move our thoughts, desires and choices aside for a moment so that Reality can change our lives. Our never-ending mental activity, however, is like any addiction; difficult and painful to withdraw from."

"Wait a minute," I protested, "my thoughts, my desires - these are everything that I am! This is me. What remains when my thoughts and desires are gone? I would be a mindless idiot!"

"You are not your thoughts," a John said emphatically. "They are only a small part of you, a tool to be used no different than your arm or your hand. Until you understand this, there will be an immense, undiscovered part of you that will always remain a mystery. Only when you can be in the moment, without thought, and still maintain complete awareness, will you be able to glimpse your true potential. But for now, it is time to get moving." I whistled for Conqueror as we started down the path, and hopefully into friendlier regions.

We traveled for two uneventful weeks, begging for food at a dozen or so different villages on the way. I was doubtful that the farmers would respect our endeavors, but surprisingly we were warmly welcomed by villagers who were familiar with key seekers and regarded us as men of integrity.

As we were strolling along one day, I found myself thinking back to our confrontation with the three warriors, and wishing that I could somehow change myself. Perhaps be not so aggressive and quick to kill. A John, the mind reader, glanced at me and said, "You will never change by trying to change."

"What do you mean by that," I responded.

"Trying to change doesn't work in the long run."

"Okay," I said sarcastically, "I'll just stay the way I am!"

"No, no, no. That is not good either. You must change if you are ever to find you key and be free. You must seek a middle way."

"You are talking in riddles again, a John!"

"You will never succeed at changing yourself by trying to change yourself directly. It must be done indirectly. By indirectly, I mean merely watching your anger instead of trying to rid your self of it. First, be aware of the physical sensations - the rising blood pressure, the flurry of thoughts, the extreme desire to act - and notice how anger cannot arise without thinking. Then carefully think about how that anger, if you feed it with thoughts, might affect not only yourself but everybody around you, not only now, but for years down the road.

"Anger is what you are in that moment, it cannot be denied, and you must not deceive yourself by thinking that it is otherwise, or that you are better than that. That is the crux of it. You see, by this observation, you leave yourself with no choice but to surrender to what you are.

"The result will be humility and surrender, not a call for action or a desire to change things. Attempts to aggressively change ourselves into something we know ourselves not to be results in violence. Until we embrace our anger, we will never embrace ourselves. Until we love anger for what it is, we will never love ourselves; and until we can love ourselves, we will never truly love another.

"Please do not misunderstand my words," a John explained. "Here, I am talking about deep-seated tendencies from past lifetimes. This is not the same as changing yourself from a student to a skilled physician by studying in school. You will clearly be able to see the difference between ambition on one hand and doing only what needs to be done on the other as your inner work develops. Ambition and aggressiveness must eventually surrender to peace if anger is to be overcome. And all acceptance is the doorway to peace."

"But I'm inclined toward action, not surrender," I complained, "and this passive ‘watching' sounds indecisive and weak. Is my strength holding me back?"

A John didn't answer; apparently wanting me to think this all through for a while.

When we walked into a village the next morning at exactly sunrise, we were greeted by smiling faces, and I was unexpectedly filled with emotion. I assumed it was because of my interaction with a John, but maybe it was also because of these wonderful people that took us under their protective wings, offering us food as well as medicine when we required it.

We ate our meal in the shade of a Pipal tree, and afterward a John continued from the day before.

"I don't believe that your strength is holding you back from watching your anger. There is something else. What are you going to do about this anger?"

"I don't know. Is there a problem with not doing anything?"

"You will never find your key."

"Oh. . . . Okay, so what should I do?"

"If you cannot change instantly, what should you do? Stay mad? No, what you do is confront the problem indirectly. Attack it in a way that will destroy the root of your anger, ending it forever instead of just toying with its symptoms. Do you think that you can do that?"

"I'm not sure that I have the patience. On the battlefield, that kind of an attitude would have gotten me killed."

"And on the battlefield you now find yourself, your anger will strengthen the Dragon of Atta and you will never defeat him."

"OK. Then I'll stop myself from becoming angry."

"No, that's not so good. You see, the problem with violently forcing yourself to change is that although you may think that you have changed, you have not, and therefore you get away with ignoring the latent anger that is still within you. You deceive yourself by pretending that you are peaceful, perhaps going as far as displaying some kind of saintly exterior, but you never really change fundamentally. You merely become a good actor, changing superficially and convincing yourself, deluding yourself that you are now calm.

"Therefore, what is the solution? How can you actually see what you are, and then accept it with understanding and humility and not take any direct actions to change yourself so that your failings remain visible. It is, on the one hand, a very passive thing to do, but on the other, a very courageous and effective thing." He then ended the conversation by suggesting that I seriously contemplate everything that was just said.

Two days later, we were walking toward a village on our alms round when our faithful lookout, Conqueror, abruptly trotted out of the forest, stopping and turning, and indicating that we should follow. A John and I quietly walked behind Conqueror for a few hundred paces until we noticed someone familiar sitting under a banana tree. (To be continued)