replied the man. “You can call me whatever you want.”
Samuel nodded
again, but did not christen him with an identity.
“It must have
something to do with the changing form, you know. Wood, to fire, to ash. It’s
like an energy tide that rolls the darkening cloud faster toward the opposite
horizon.”
Samuel looked
at the lighter in his hand and dropped it back into a pocket.
“Are you
alone?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
Samuel sat
there and decided to let the dead man have what he needed from their
interaction. After a prolonged silence, the man spoke again.
“Do you know of
the Jains?” he asked.
Samuel shook
his head and thought about the sleep he craved. “No.”
The dead man
rocked backward and placed both bony hands on his knees.
“They were the
first, in your original locality, to come up with the idea of ahimsa . They
called themselves ‘the defenders of all beings.’ Do you know why?”
Samuel did not
reply, knowing the conversation would occur anyway.
“The Jains
believed in conquering desire as a way of achieving enlightenment. Enlightenment,
for them, was escaping the cycle of rebirth. Reincarnation was a curse to
avoid, not some type of immortality.”
“Sounds
Buddhist,” said Samuel.
“It is. Mahavira
and Buddha were contemporaries. But they are not the same.” The dead man paused
before continuing. “Because of their belief in the cycle of rebirth, Jains also
believed that every living thing had a soul. Not just intelligent creatures,
but the trees, birds, plants. Everything. So the pain man inflicts on other
living creatures is really the pain he inflicts on himself. ‘Many times I have
been drawn and quartered, torn apart, and skinned, helpless in snares and
traps, a deer. An infinite number of times I have been felled, stripped of my
bark, cut up, and sawn into planks’.”
“That’s not
possible. You can’t exist without destroying something else that is living,”
replied Samuel.
“You can if you
are not of the living.”
Samuel raised
his eyebrows.
The
dead man stood. His bones cracked. He turned toward the marsh and took stilted
steps to the water’s edge. When the black liquid crept up to his knees, he turned
to face Samuel once more.
“Rest. Sleep. Dream.
I hope you can find the peace I cannot.”
The dead man
pushed forward until the water of the marsh converged over the top of his head.
Samuel watched a single bubble arise and pop soundlessly in the darkness. He lay
on his side and allowed the spell of sleep to arrive.
***
Samuel awoke
tired and achy. He gathered his things and took one last look at the marsh
before continuing on the path, heading east toward the Barren and his meeting
with Major. The dark cloud pushed ever closer as it devoured the locality.
Samuel could
not remember the point at which he had left the path. He recalled the coming of
the snow, and the cold, and the continued silence, but he felt as though one
moment he had stood on the worn ground and the next he was knee-deep in gray
snow.
The cold, heavy
flakes floated from the sky. They landed one on top of another and covered the
ground within an hour. Samuel thought the snow could have been white, but
without daylight and the reflection off the snowpack, the precipitation fell in
waves of gray. Samuel could not see the dark cloud that came from the west, but
he felt it. He knew it was there, above the winter storm in the place where
winter did not exist.
He trudged
onward, sensing east as best he could. The snow came in silent waves, covering
the locality and burying the marsh, the path, and obscuring the mountain from
view. Samuel realized his shirt and pants would not be enough for him to
survive if this was indeed the onslaught of winter. The locality carried no
warning, no shot across the bow with falling leaves of autumn.
Samuel felt the
snow suffocating his breath with the cold wind on his back. The ice kept his
fingers numb, the fatigue pulling his eyelids down. The
Samuel nodded
again, but did not christen him with an identity.
“It must have
something to do with the changing form, you know. Wood, to fire, to ash. It’s
like an energy tide that rolls the darkening cloud faster toward the opposite
horizon.”
Samuel looked
at the lighter in his hand and dropped it back into a pocket.
“Are you
alone?” the man asked.
“Yes.”
Samuel sat
there and decided to let the dead man have what he needed from their
interaction. After a prolonged silence, the man spoke again.
“Do you know of
the Jains?” he asked.
Samuel shook
his head and thought about the sleep he craved. “No.”
The dead man
rocked backward and placed both bony hands on his knees.
“They were the
first, in your original locality, to come up with the idea of ahimsa . They
called themselves ‘the defenders of all beings.’ Do you know why?”
Samuel did not
reply, knowing the conversation would occur anyway.
“The Jains
believed in conquering desire as a way of achieving enlightenment. Enlightenment,
for them, was escaping the cycle of rebirth. Reincarnation was a curse to
avoid, not some type of immortality.”
“Sounds
Buddhist,” said Samuel.
“It is. Mahavira
and Buddha were contemporaries. But they are not the same.” The dead man paused
before continuing. “Because of their belief in the cycle of rebirth, Jains also
believed that every living thing had a soul. Not just intelligent creatures,
but the trees, birds, plants. Everything. So the pain man inflicts on other
living creatures is really the pain he inflicts on himself. ‘Many times I have
been drawn and quartered, torn apart, and skinned, helpless in snares and
traps, a deer. An infinite number of times I have been felled, stripped of my
bark, cut up, and sawn into planks’.”
“That’s not
possible. You can’t exist without destroying something else that is living,”
replied Samuel.
“You can if you
are not of the living.”
Samuel raised
his eyebrows.
The
dead man stood. His bones cracked. He turned toward the marsh and took stilted
steps to the water’s edge. When the black liquid crept up to his knees, he turned
to face Samuel once more.
“Rest. Sleep. Dream.
I hope you can find the peace I cannot.”
The dead man
pushed forward until the water of the marsh converged over the top of his head.
Samuel watched a single bubble arise and pop soundlessly in the darkness. He lay
on his side and allowed the spell of sleep to arrive.
***
Samuel awoke
tired and achy. He gathered his things and took one last look at the marsh
before continuing on the path, heading east toward the Barren and his meeting
with Major. The dark cloud pushed ever closer as it devoured the locality.
Samuel could
not remember the point at which he had left the path. He recalled the coming of
the snow, and the cold, and the continued silence, but he felt as though one
moment he had stood on the worn ground and the next he was knee-deep in gray
snow.
The cold, heavy
flakes floated from the sky. They landed one on top of another and covered the
ground within an hour. Samuel thought the snow could have been white, but
without daylight and the reflection off the snowpack, the precipitation fell in
waves of gray. Samuel could not see the dark cloud that came from the west, but
he felt it. He knew it was there, above the winter storm in the place where
winter did not exist.
He trudged
onward, sensing east as best he could. The snow came in silent waves, covering
the locality and burying the marsh, the path, and obscuring the mountain from
view. Samuel realized his shirt and pants would not be enough for him to
survive if this was indeed the onslaught of winter. The locality carried no
warning, no shot across the bow with falling leaves of autumn.
Samuel felt the
snow suffocating his breath with the cold wind on his back. The ice kept his
fingers numb, the fatigue pulling his eyelids down. The
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