their second year, they knew more about creek life and girl life and kept sharing their latest information with each other. Eventually, they each discovered a growing interest in the males of their species. This, too, they shared. Yet, it could never be the same as that wonderful year of innocent explorations.
As Keara lay down by Roan, she wished that they could have all the loves they ever had, hold everyone dear, welcome all the kinds of sexuality that life had to offer. But, they were cautious now, having been through other relationships where emotions, as Roan said, got sticky. After Ohdonna got her job protecting the coral reef, Keara involved herself in numerous sexual liaisons. Some pleasant, some not.
She had tasted the nectar. Not everyone offered it. She would wait. She had learned that sexual love is a gift, not a practice. It has its own life, its own vitality. She spent the next nineteen years learning this. Doing yoga reminded her of Thursday afternoons with Ohdonna. The Fish pose. The Heron. The Bridge. And one called, camatkarasana, the Wild Thing, described as “the ecstatic unfolding of the enraptured heart.” She became determined to become limber and balanced enough to try this one for sure. That’s when she met Roan. He was teaching a class during the one time she was free.
Back at the Hill
The four monks were surveying the hill near the Shemaya river. They were made aware of the site by Saffi and Yaro’s ritual. As they looked through Time, they could see that the hill had been held sacred in many hearts for centuries. There seemed to be a balance of gentle wind, high elevation, water nearby and a good mix of wildlife and plants.
Kunchen suggested that it may need to be left as it is for awhile in order to generate the emotional shock, grief, anger and intention needed to elicit a strong desire for restoration by the human beings.
Chewa imagined prompting a group of her students to organize a pilgrimage to the area in order to practice specific rituals of preparation she had taught them.
Jampa said that his doves would be glad to communicate their idea to all of the local animals.
Kalden projected an image of the future temple onto the site for their approval.
Yes, they agreed, The Temple of Love must be built here. With this decision, they proceeded to engage in animated discussion of how to generate inspiration in the humans who would need to be involved, how to channel the resources needed, who to choose as leaders and guides for the many tasks ahead, and what to have for dinner.
They walked and chattered, here and there stopping to pray, sometimes dowsing to make sure they were on the right track, and by noon, they were exhausted and decided to attend a nearby yoga class for a mental rest.
The Class
Roan’s voice was confident and clear. His energy easily moved through the realms of life, thus it was easy for the four monks to find his class.
“Take a deep breath,” Roan said to his students. “Send it down through the soles of your feet. All the way into Mother Earth. Feel her nourishing energy rise back up into your body, traveling through every muscle..." he continued his meditation induction readying the class for stretches, yogic breathing and asanas.
Keara was fond of rituals to keep in shape and in good health. She preferred a life with routines she could trust to keep things in order at a basic level topped with a dollop of total sexual freedom to balance it out. She was not promiscuous. Her lovers were by no means random, but carefully chosen by the Higher Presence to suit her exact needs of the time.
She felt that she had the right of refusal of any such gift from the Divine, but was very pleased to be offered such a fine selection of lovers throughout her life thus far. Now, as she stretched and relaxed to the sound of Roan Vodin’s voice, she knew, he was a gift.
She began to come to class twice weekly and would have attended more often if she were not working at the Women’s Health Clinic, repainting her bedroom, cultivating exotic hoya plants and maintaining her daily meditation and journaling time.
Roan’s voice surfaced again in her consciousness and she relaxed deeply into the idea of invitation.
Tastes
The four monks enjoyed the respite of yoga, afterwards embarking on a stroll down Fourth Street to take in the smells of several ethnic restaurants. Kalden was drawn to the building with the limestone elephants out front which served Thai cosine. Chewa was in the mood for a simple sandwich. Kunchen suggested that an Indian dish of milk sauce and steamed green vegetables would perhaps soothe their emotions further after the earlier period of intense concentration and excitement. Jampa was distracted by the flight of starlings.
Eventually, they decided on ice cream, walked to the Chocolate Moo and indulged in cold, refreshing milk shakes. All were very happy after this and ready to return to the Great Land.
Meanwhile, Yaro and Saffi were busy cleaning fish and packing them in ice for their journey. Saffi would take her Wild Foods cookbook and fern fronds, her journal so that she could share some intimate thoughts with Keara, and her colored pencils and sketchbook in case Keara was in an artistic mode.
Roan was in his study after finishing his evening salad and savoring the fresh cornbread Keara had made. Neither Roan nor Keara liked to cook very often and preferred either fresh, live food or warm, comforting breads and cakes that reminded them of childhood. They did allow themselves occasional meat or fish if it was presented to them.
Roan was rather strict with himself, some belief about purification that arose out of his yogic tradition. Keara didn’t mind as long as she was free to choose her individual differences of dietary opinion. She liked the ease of raw foods and the vitality that she felt from eating them. But, it was too hard to give up cornbread, chocolate chip cookies and carrot cake.
The vegetables and grains prided themselves on how thoroughly they were appreciated by people of spiritual consciousness. The fish pointed out that they had been the primary food for many a tribe throughout the centuries, not only loved for their taste, but appreciated for the sport of catching them. The four-leggeds said, “Sport? I think we have you swimmer’s beat in that regard. We have given hunters a grand test of their prowess and have not only provided entire clans with food, but given hides and bones and sinew for their homes, clothing, instruments and tools.”
“Yes, said the vegetables, but that time is past. There are not enough of you left to feed all of humankind. So many of your species are dying out, and there are so many humans to feed.”
The fruits joined in saying, “We have been here from the very beginning and always shall be. Humans enjoy our sweetness. We return each year without the need to be replanted and are, therefore, very energy-efficient.”
“Let’s not argue,” said the fliers. Each of you have done your job well, satisfying many tastes in many locations. What we need to think about now is how to keep our habitats intact. What with the human population expanding beyond the current capacity of the Earth’s ability to provide sustenance for us all, we are facing a huge dilemma. We fly over great expanses during our migrations and see the diminishing forests, the spoiled waterways, the clouds of pollution and feel the fiery intensity of the increase in electromagnetic fields. It is a changed world from what we have known for all of our ancestral lives.”
The swimmers, the four-leggeds, the vegetables, grains and fruits all fell silent, knowing the fliers words to be true. “But, someone must care,” said a small voice within the crowd.” “Surely,
