Tao Te Ching 58
Dec. 25th, 2012 03:23 pm![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
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writing_shadows1889
It was a small temple, but even the small had a way of magnificence. The smooth arches of the roof, leading down from the twin dragons howling at the apex; the white awning arches, scrubbed clean to catch the sun. And the guardian lions outside, an ever-vigilant watch of hardened stone. Inside wafted a faint cloud of incense, a magical wisp that reminded him of the genie in the Arabian Nights. Out in front, a stone brazier burned.
He could hear the chants and prayers from inside as though a thousand pilgrims had packed inside the tiny space, though when he set his foot across the raised red theshold, only three figures remained. Two demonic creatures rose beside him, snarling faces above red muscles, brandishing swords and axes with unearthly ferocity. And in front, smaller, far more serene, sat the statue of a lady.
She was no ordinary lady. He knew that already. He had heard her name calm storms and bring the lost home to harbour, seen her hand in the majesty of the world. To a Christian mind, she was simply another pagan idol. But he doubted his mind was Christian any more.
He crossed the room, sunk before the statue, bowed to it, as the coolies did. He lit a joss stick and let the scent calm his senses and, quietly, he prayed.
It was no religious conversion, he knew. It was no instant revelation or experience that would shake his faith and transform him into a Taoist. The statue did not come to life to offer him undeserved forgiveness. He felt no answer to his prayers. In truth, he felt nothing. Nothing but the dirt under his nails, the clammy clasp of others’ sweat on his skin, the pinch of his clothes as he knelt in prayer.
Tin Hau did not bring him something to fill the emptiness. She brought only more emptiness, more feelings of misplaced faith. She did not lie to him as God and his chosen had done, did not reach out to him at his lowest ebb. She simply sat there, unmoved, uninterested. If he were to come to her, he would do so by choice, not because she asked.
“My name is Robert Tyne-Blake,” he said, quietly, his twisted voice slow an deliberate. Cantonese was a language of tones, and his curse meant words easily crumbling into other meanings. “And I… lost my way. I first lost it when I left England. That was… almost forty years ago, now. Somehow I drifted here. And when my life was taken, I thought I should do something worthy. So I acted as a Christian should, even though I were… well. You know what I am.”
He paused, glancing around the temple, making sure he was alone in the shadows. “But something shook my faith, thirty years ago, now. And while others have forgotten that chapter, my mind always returns to it. There’s no peace in dreams, Mother. There’s only the memory of what I did.
”At first, I blotted it out. It was a mistake, after all. The Lance aren’t bad; I know that. They’re good, misguided bloodsucking monsters. They made an error. And, well, I am a trader, not a theologist or priest. So I returned to my work, and we made money, and I forgot that I ever supplied the guns that caused that village to perish. I just…whisked it from my mind. Or, rather, I tried.
“Thirty years ago, Mother. Thirty years, and every day I rest and see their faces in my dreams, and I can’t live like that. So… I’ve decided not to. I’ve thought hard about it. And while I would love to step out into the sun, that doesn’t bring them back. And there has to be good in me. There has to be. Because if there wasn’t I wouldn’t feel like I do. They’re too far gone to see it, Mother! They’re too far gone to see that evil is simply good without conscience!
“And so I’ve decided two things. First, that I must improve myself. That I must gain a skill, and give that skill to others. Good, yes? I’ll… learn something. Something important and valuable. I’ll give the money I have away to charity, and I’ll dedicate myself to… something. Something worthy.
“And second… this is the part I need your help with. If I’m going to be free – and I want to be free – I need to escape the dreams. I can’t be trapped by guilt. I have to trust that I deserve happiness too. So… I pray to you, great Tin Hau, Old Woman of the Sea, to keep me awake. I don’t want to sleep any more. I want to forget the day. And I pledge that for every day you keep me awake, I will take it as a sign from you that it’s OK to enjoy myself. That I deserve happiness too. The night is for skill and service, to wipe away the blood. And the day is for sunshine. Deal?”
There was no answer. There never was going to be. But when he returned to the Necropolis, he didn’t sleep as dawn came. And, for the first time in decades, he decided to dance.
It was a small temple, but even the small had a way of magnificence. The smooth arches of the roof, leading down from the twin dragons howling at the apex; the white awning arches, scrubbed clean to catch the sun. And the guardian lions outside, an ever-vigilant watch of hardened stone. Inside wafted a faint cloud of incense, a magical wisp that reminded him of the genie in the Arabian Nights. Out in front, a stone brazier burned.
He could hear the chants and prayers from inside as though a thousand pilgrims had packed inside the tiny space, though when he set his foot across the raised red theshold, only three figures remained. Two demonic creatures rose beside him, snarling faces above red muscles, brandishing swords and axes with unearthly ferocity. And in front, smaller, far more serene, sat the statue of a lady.
She was no ordinary lady. He knew that already. He had heard her name calm storms and bring the lost home to harbour, seen her hand in the majesty of the world. To a Christian mind, she was simply another pagan idol. But he doubted his mind was Christian any more.
He crossed the room, sunk before the statue, bowed to it, as the coolies did. He lit a joss stick and let the scent calm his senses and, quietly, he prayed.
It was no religious conversion, he knew. It was no instant revelation or experience that would shake his faith and transform him into a Taoist. The statue did not come to life to offer him undeserved forgiveness. He felt no answer to his prayers. In truth, he felt nothing. Nothing but the dirt under his nails, the clammy clasp of others’ sweat on his skin, the pinch of his clothes as he knelt in prayer.
Tin Hau did not bring him something to fill the emptiness. She brought only more emptiness, more feelings of misplaced faith. She did not lie to him as God and his chosen had done, did not reach out to him at his lowest ebb. She simply sat there, unmoved, uninterested. If he were to come to her, he would do so by choice, not because she asked.
“My name is Robert Tyne-Blake,” he said, quietly, his twisted voice slow an deliberate. Cantonese was a language of tones, and his curse meant words easily crumbling into other meanings. “And I… lost my way. I first lost it when I left England. That was… almost forty years ago, now. Somehow I drifted here. And when my life was taken, I thought I should do something worthy. So I acted as a Christian should, even though I were… well. You know what I am.”
He paused, glancing around the temple, making sure he was alone in the shadows. “But something shook my faith, thirty years ago, now. And while others have forgotten that chapter, my mind always returns to it. There’s no peace in dreams, Mother. There’s only the memory of what I did.
”At first, I blotted it out. It was a mistake, after all. The Lance aren’t bad; I know that. They’re good, misguided bloodsucking monsters. They made an error. And, well, I am a trader, not a theologist or priest. So I returned to my work, and we made money, and I forgot that I ever supplied the guns that caused that village to perish. I just…whisked it from my mind. Or, rather, I tried.
“Thirty years ago, Mother. Thirty years, and every day I rest and see their faces in my dreams, and I can’t live like that. So… I’ve decided not to. I’ve thought hard about it. And while I would love to step out into the sun, that doesn’t bring them back. And there has to be good in me. There has to be. Because if there wasn’t I wouldn’t feel like I do. They’re too far gone to see it, Mother! They’re too far gone to see that evil is simply good without conscience!
“And so I’ve decided two things. First, that I must improve myself. That I must gain a skill, and give that skill to others. Good, yes? I’ll… learn something. Something important and valuable. I’ll give the money I have away to charity, and I’ll dedicate myself to… something. Something worthy.
“And second… this is the part I need your help with. If I’m going to be free – and I want to be free – I need to escape the dreams. I can’t be trapped by guilt. I have to trust that I deserve happiness too. So… I pray to you, great Tin Hau, Old Woman of the Sea, to keep me awake. I don’t want to sleep any more. I want to forget the day. And I pledge that for every day you keep me awake, I will take it as a sign from you that it’s OK to enjoy myself. That I deserve happiness too. The night is for skill and service, to wipe away the blood. And the day is for sunshine. Deal?”
There was no answer. There never was going to be. But when he returned to the Necropolis, he didn’t sleep as dawn came. And, for the first time in decades, he decided to dance.
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Date: 2012-12-25 06:47 pm (UTC)