Page 6. Seeker

It took place a long time ago and nobody knows whether it really was. High in the mountains, lost among snows and rocks, there was a tiny Monastery. It was more like a sentry post by the borders of the Great Secret Country rather than monastery. Its residents - six monks and Father Superior - followed all canons of the monastery life. Twice a year supplies were delivered to the Monastery, rest of the time its residents were absolutely cut off the world.

From time to time guides brought here people, heading to the Secret Country. Happy their faces were - as that cloister was the last step on their way to the cherished dream. A guide usually brought a man to the gates and immediately started his way back. When an appointed hour came, Father Superior accompanied that person by the concealed path known only to him through the impenetrable pass to the valley of the Secret Country. If one of monks died, straight away there came someone to replace him. It was like that by centuries. But once common order was disturbed.

...A monk keeping up the fire in the upper tower of the Monastery noticed a man from afar. The exhausted man was clambering the steep snowy slope aside the path - it was clear that he did not know the way. The monk knew it was impossible to distinguish their cloister from below, if you don’t know its exact location. But anyway that wanderer was heading up to him. Alone.

The monk called Father Superior. As far as he remembered nobody came here without a guide. Having walked up the tower Father Superior saw that Wanderer drained of all strength was lying on the snow about one hundred meters below the Monastery. He obviously could not get up without help. Father Superior did not fall to thinking who he might be and how he found the way - by years of living in the Monastery he knew for sure that the one uncalled would not come here. In several minutes two monks were carefully putting the Wanderer on the stretcher and tying him with straps.

Though unexpected things did not finish. While crossing the glacier one of the monks stumbled and could not help falling to the precipice by steep ice plates. His comrade hardly managed to counterpoise and hold on his burden. Everything happened so swiftly, that nobody could take any measures. Mountains kept their everlasting silence.

There lived people of high spirituality in the Monastery. They were glad to devote themselves to the service in severe conditions of high mountains as they realized that their labor helped Fathers Superior in the Secret Country. Monks perceived death as the next inevitable stage in their Service. So nobody burst into tears or started mourning over the gone, but all of them united in the silent prayer, wishing him further happy ascending to the Higher Spheres.

The next morning found the Father Superior in the praying conversation with the Highest. “Make me understand, Master,” Father Superior asked. “Help me realize what I should do with the Wanderer. He came here without a guide and he wants to continue his way. Am I to show him the secret path, and if it is so, then - when? Or is it better for me to discourage him from this way?” – “Your heart will guide you.” – The answer was.

… The Wanderer was happy to meet the Father Superior. “Father, take my heartfelt gratitude for the rescue and refuge; I’ve taken a rest and now not to burden you further I am ready to continue my way.” That was the first time the Father Superior had an opportunity to look at him thoroughly. That was a young man in his twenties, tall, thin, fair-haired, with a glimpse of uncommon for his age wisdom shining in the depth of his ice-blue eyes. Having plunged into that depth, Father Superior did not hesitate anymore.

“Let it be, - He said. – I will lead you by the secret path to the place where voice of your spirit calls you to. I won’t conceal that your coming – alone, without a guide – seemed strange, but the one, who was not called, won’t come here. But before we start our way, I need to ask your favor. You may refuse, nobody will blame you: everybody realizes the high goal is waiting for you over the mountain pass and how agonizing the delay seems when it is so close. But, anyway, listen to my request. Yesterday, when one of our brethren rescued you, he lost his life. There are few of us here, and each one has his own duties. Could you stay here for several days instead of him, until substitute arrives?”

Wanderer’s eyes widened. “Father, I’ll be happy if my modest help serves your fine deal. I am at your service as much time, as you need – no matter whether it will be a day or a year – I’ll be happy to help you in anything.” “Thank you, my son, - Father Superior nodded. – I think it won’t take much time to wait.”

Years passed. Wanderer’s beard became grey, only his eyes were the same clean and limpid. As it used to be, in spring and in autumn goods and fuel were delivered to the Monastery, as it used to be, monks maintained the fire in the upper tower, but there was no substitute for the died brother. Several times the Father Superior offered the Wanderer to lead him through the mountain pass, but he denied those offers. At the last time the Wanderer said: “Many years ago I came here driven by the hand unseen. Depths of my memory keep and will always keep the dream of the fair Country over the mountains, where each one shares his love and divine wisdom with everyone. But how can I leave my saviors if they need my help? I’ve decided that my place is here.” The Father Superior did not answer anything, just hugged the Wanderer in the burst of gratitude.

… That was one of those cold autumn nights, when piercing wind drove scraps of clouds over steep slopes and fine snow pellets covered white rocks. The Wanderer just took over the watch, when the knock at the gates heard. There were two people on the threshold: a young monk with a meek trustful face and a tall guide of strong constitution with thick beard and piercing look. “Let your home be warm at this night, - the guide said with respect. – Receive guests, host!” Passing by, guide met eyes of the Wanderer, who felt burnt through from that glance. The Father Superior took guests away, but the Wanderer’s heart could not get calm for a long time, and for a long time he was seized with a cheerful excitement.

The next day the bearded stranger looked into the small cell, where he Wanderer was taking a rest after his night watch. Having come in quietly, he closed the door after himself, sat down by the sleeping, gazed at him for some time, then stretched his hand and touched Wanderer’s forehead. Wanderer opened his eyes and sat up in his bed. “Let your sleep be blessed and waking-up be cheerful, a good man!” – Merry sparkles were dancing in the guest’s eyes.

“Who are you? Why does your voice seem familiar to me?” – Wanderer got seized with a joyful feeling again.

“You have not heard my voice before, though your heart turned to me in your prayers. That heart’s call made you leave your home for the sake of child’s dream that seemed unachievable. That was my hand that led you through mountain crosses and gloomy gorges to the Monastery. That was me who delayed substitute to the blessed brother, that paid his karmic debt and gone to the High Worlds to continue his service.”

Wanderer knelt down on the floor in silence and bowed reverently before the giant of spirit.

“Dear friend and brother, - Master continued. – You’ve undergone the great ordeal with honor. Seventeen years – every hour, every minute – you abandoned your cherished dream that you’ve almost reached. You abandoned it because of the great love and huge feeling of gratitude to people, who rescued your life and who needed your help. You abandoned it though several times you were offered in all sincerity to leave the cloister and go to your dream that was so close. You’ve overcome temptation and accepted with gratitude all circumstances of your workaday life making it bright holiday of high service to Light. Stand up, my brother. Your ordeal is finished. A young man that has come together with me will substitute you here. Today my hand will lead you to the great Temple of Spirit, the call of which you bear in your heart.”

With a sinking heart the Wanderer got up and lifted up his eyes. He was astonished by the changes in his interlocutor’s appearance. The big figure in the crystal white clothes rose above him. Walls of the tiny cell seemed to move broader, ceiling – higher, hardly finding room for the brilliant giant. His face was inexpressibly handsome; it seemed that he was filling the room with the ever-living fire, running and playing like a mountain stream. The giant raised his hand – a long violet lightning broke away from his fingers and covered the Wanderer. Unearthly beatitude overwhelmed all his being, boiled up inside and poured out, filling the whole world, the whole Universe! And the Universe answered him with the mighty chord of life, joy and love.

That chord echoed in the heart of each seven Monastery inhabitants, seeing Wanderer off to the new life – life of the realized dream.