Great Sage Above Brockton Interlude 1: Om

Water trickled along rocks and pebbles. Crickets chirped on branches of blossoms. Pink flowers, blooming into crowns, drifted on the river’s pulse. The grove drank from the waters, its multitude of roots, embedded deep within the rich soil. A canvas of green and yellow, highlighted by a stroke of clear blue.

Perched on a branch of a high tree was a bird, and beside her were four hatchlings. Blue-feathered and green-breasted they were, shimmering, living jewels under the incandescent light. The mother chirped and took flight, diving and gracing the water’s clear surface with her wing. Up and down, round and round, under branches and over roots. Her children, filled with curious nature and rooted instinct, cultivated by ages past and through ancestors’ labors, watched their bearer’s every flap, soaking all the knowledge they would need to take to the blue canvas above them.

She landed on the branch, and a chorus of chirps joined the symphony of nature. An eager flock they were, and they would fly to their own fates one day. Until then, she would guide and teach them. Not just in flight but in food, foraging, and building; as all mothers do and should.

A jerk of the plumed head signals the trial’s start.

First Brother - for only when they leave their nest do they gain proper names, befitting of their new status as adults - leaps and spirals down, wings fluttering and catching the air until they finally spread and he pivots upward. He circles the stream and triumph is in his call. First born, first to try, first to live, first to die. Cycles upon cycles, all in the balance of the world.

First Sister sees her elder brother and trills with wonder. Air flows between her pinions as she hops off the branch and flits above the lily pads, elegance and finesse with every beat of her resplendent wings.

Second Brother’s heart swells with pride, acknowledging his senior siblings’ rightful position as first of flight. Even if he lacks his brother's swiftness and his sister's beauty, his flight proves steady, and his eyes are sharp, spotting comfortable branches to rest on amidst the nearby willows.

Finally, there is Second Sister. Her call is the peal of windchimes, and her head crest of flowing jade. Beauty on par with her sister’s, sure to attract any mate wishing to court her in the future. She longs for the skies as the rest of her family does. However, when she looks down at the river from the branch’s height, hesitation grips her fragile bones. The wings that she had spent hours practicing with, watching her mother leave and return to the nest with food, are chilled by an unseen frost. Her tail feathers, preened by her mother daily, seem to retreat into her body. It is not a pleasant fall for a bird, and she was no crane or heron, who took to the waters as they did to the air. If she fell into the water, would she ever see the skies again? Would her dear mother, who nurtured her, save her? Her siblings, whose warmth she had known all her life?

Would they deign to risk their new freedom for the plight of a failed daughter?

The mother sees her daughter’s fear and chirps. Her second daughter was always a fragile one among her nest, and she had worried for her ever since her hatching, so pale and lustreless. An extra portion was doled out to her, hidden within her breast feathers, so she might grow healthy and strong like her sister. With time, her plumage grew to match and even surpass the others’ radiance, and her wings had filled out and grown to their proper size. However, despite all the care she was given, the spectre of fear still loomed over the youngest. 

The time had come. She could no longer wait or let fear take hold of her. It pained her as a mother to do so, but the call of the ancestors was not to be ignored.

Second Sister kept staring at the water, and suddenly -

Her mother’s mournful trill. 

Her siblings circled above her, calling out for her to join them, growing further away with each second.

The wind did not carry her. Her wings were weighted with stone.

The trickling of water growing louder and louder, and a face matching her own growing closer and closer -

“Ah!”

Oh? What’s this?

Not the water’s cold and unfeeling touch, but one of warmth and comfort.

“Do not fear the skies, little one. Your fear deceives and binds you.”

Second Sister chirped, nine toes gripping delicate fingers. 

“Destiny’s call is not the chains in the deep, but the freedom of the heavens.”

Another finger brushes her head.

“Your family calls for you. They fear for you and love you; never doubt that.” 

Birdsong fills the sky and joins the river’s chorus.

“Go and join them.”

Second Sister looked back at the river, and this time, her breast swelled with courage. With a dainty jump, she leapt off the hand and finally joined them above, to their jubilation.

Footsteps rustled the grass behind her. 

“Was it truly a kindness you showed it? Perhaps it was meant to fall if the waters had claimed it.”

“Just because the first step might be uneven, it shouldn’t signal the journey’s end,” she chided. “Sometimes a helping hand is more important than the step itself.”

“Perhaps. But if one does not learn to take the first step by oneself, how can one hope to endure the journey ahead? The helping hand will not always be present to guide, and might be viewed as a crutch.”

“A cold view of the world. Do infants not walk with their mother’s help?”

“Even babes must take their first steps unaided. Otherwise, no one would call them ‘first steps’ for who is it that does the walking?”

She sighed. “A pillar we claim is central, yet so few are willing to bear it upon them.”

“It is central and it is followed, but the other virtues cannot be neglected.” He sat down beside her. She did not mind; despite their debates, his presence was always a welcome one.

A leaf drifted upon the river, sending tiny ripples as it moved.

“Your presence has been sorely missed. Our friends note your mien has grown downcast as of late.”

A finger dipped into the river, the ripples pushing the leaf aside.

“I feel little cause for levity these days. If others would notice, they would share in my sorrow. How can I make merry, when vestiges slither past and remind me of my purpose?”

He grunted in understanding. “A cruel position, to be sure. This change you cannot ignore, yet willing hands are stayed, and this garden is your retreat.”

“I questioned the decision many times, and even others saw the truth behind my words. At the end of the day, it was futile.”

“Futile might be a strong word; friends and opponents revealed their true colors in those days.”

The closest approximation to a snort escaped her lips. “As if I needed those to divine their nature. They forget at times who I am, despite their reverence.

The birds swoop down, circle them, and sing songs of gratitude. The mother took charge, and the family flew into the golden rays of the sun. Smiling at their performance, she raises a handful of pebbles from the stream, each flat and smooth, and begins stacking them.

“A strange rush swept my consciousness earlier during my morning bouts - as though a snowbank shifted from the face of the mountain. When I attempted to find it, nothing was amiss.”

“Balance always shifts and rights itself; otherwise, it wouldn’t be called balance. A challenge, an insult, then a change in the scales, and finally, reconciliation.” She places the last pebble atop the mound and bows. “One stone might cause a ripple, but the river’s course remains steady.”

He bowed his head as well, then gestured to her lap. “Is that a new flower? I’ve never seen it’s like in the gardens.”

“Oh yes, it’s fascinating.” She plucked it from the vase and held it aloft, her smile growing genuine. “A dear friend of mine gifted it to me from his travels. He claims it's from a land where the scent of wine glides upon the sea breeze and where thought and ideals were forged on beaches and mountains.”

She brushed its purple petals and held it against the sun’s light. “In their culture, it symbolizes change. Surprising change, at times unwelcome, but we both know that such change can often result in better times.”

His grumble was an avalanche, but she didn’t miss the upturning of his lips. She offered him the flower and he grasped it between his calloused fingers. It bore an intriguing look, far different from the cultivated orchids and blossoms boasted on many a table. The petals were creased together and folded like paper. A chaotic mess that would shame many arrangements…though it wasn't unappealing to the eye. Instead of order, he glimpsed patterns and found himself drawn to them, his eyes roaming along their twists and turns. 

“The water flows smoothly to the fish, and to the eagle, it is naught but a blue line, scribbled in the ground with no purpose but to join the sea. Neither dreams of the other, so why question?” he murmured. Bringing the flower to his nose, he took in its fragrance. 

“A beautiful specimen,” he exclaimed, his voice flush with warmth. With a careful grip, he returned the flower. “A new spot for the garden?”

“Of course.”

“I imagine the envy already. Who needs the titter-tatter of the peacocks when such a lovely swan graces my presence?”

Her smile, though one of amusement rather than joy, was brighter than all the stars, and pride filled his heart. Few else were truer friends.

“Your silver tongue, while polished to a shine, is better suited elsewhere. Nonetheless, I thank you for your attempt.”

Ah, much better. Gloom and melancholy did not suit her nature nor her position. If he could offer an open ear or a strong grip, only his fading body would stop him.

Hah, beaten again!

She returned to watching the river and he bade his leave. Not a moment later though, his voice called out in question:

“I saw the young one hiding within the green and engaged in contemplation. A path trodden fine alone, yet in absence I felt a presence sorely missed. The other one, where has he gone?”

She picked up the topmost rock and turned it over thrice in her palms. Unlike the others, jagged were its edges and rough was its skin. “Even hidden amongst the garden, a closed bud feels lesser to the blooming ones. He masked it well, but it was soon written upon his face. And I cannot stop their gazes, no matter how much I shield him. The loss of a loved one pulls at the heart worse than any claw or weapon, and few could compare to the emptiness clawing at his. He was going through the motions, more out of gratitude and obligation than desire. I feared one day, the knives in the dark would strike and disaster would ensue. I could protect him, yes, but his emptiness would expand and consume him.”

Placing the rock on the emerald bank, she laid soft blades atop it until it was hidden from their view.

“Thus, I asked him. And when he replied yes, I showed him the way. Do not search for him; he is far beyond your sight now.”

The meadow danced to the wind’s tune, whispering on hidden revels, ignorant of his astonishment.

How?

“Your reach is truly beyond this lowly one’s. Such stealth is unexpected, I must confess.”

A coy smile was her response. “I do not enjoy it in the slightest, but even I know the value of the hidden lips and the deft hand. Such tools are to be used lightly, and only then do their edges stay sharp.”

A breeze passed between them, carrying the drifting leaves from under the roots and atop the highest branches. Far away, the familiar calls rang.

Another bow came from him. “Once again, you stand atop us all. Would you permit this humble one to invite you to partake in the company of our trusted confidants later?”

“I can think of no greater honor. Safe travels, dear friend.”

“And serenity upon your weary spirit.”

And thus, he left her to her musings on the riverbank, with the trickling of the water and the rustling of the trees as her companions. Her smile, moments before full of life, dimmed as disquietude crept its bony hands into her mind.

“Guidance…it seems that we are all in need of it, and still unwilling to give it. For how can you give what you do not have?”

She raised her head, and Second Sister, once fragile and stricken and now vibrant and cheerful, darted from the treetops, her siblings trilling behind her before the family delved back into the green, leaving naught but echoes in their wake.

“If others seek to fly, I hope you will be that helping hand…so they may guide you to happiness as well.”