Transitional Fossil

" The question isn't "who is going to let me"; it's "who is going to stop me".
Ayn Rand, The Fountainhead

Friday, December 30, 2005

Sword Meditation 12.30.05

pilfered pic
(pilfered pic)

Walk through the white-edged woods towards the forge. The snow sound-proofs everything and the mumbling river gets muffled as i enter the cave.

Inside this forge, tools are laid bare. Materials are plenty and segregated. I look at each and determine its purpose. Hammer, to shape. Clamps to bend. Ingots to mold, nails to carve and chisel. Leather and jewels to adorn. Wood, straw, coal for heat. And it begins.

First the heat. Make it hotter than hot. I shut my eyes until my skin reddens and all I see is white light through closed eyes. Effort, effort, constant effort. The ingot goes in the fire. For hours I burn. Throwing my unwanted, unneeded in the fire. The hammer takes away and focuses the shape. Effort, constant effort. Over and over. My mind wants to hike and make a snowman. Back to center. Back to focus.

Slowly my focus reaches the tip. I walk to the river and stand with unfinished me in hand. I place it in the chilling water next to my thighs and pray. There is no sound by the river. It is the all. I take a large stone from it for shapening.

I sharpen. The sliding of steel against the ancient rock makes a satiated cry. Birth is occurring. Over and over. Again and again. Effort, constant effort. Once the like of the sword disappears I tattoo the crest. Three words. One one side, soy gow, Cantonese for Steamed Dumplings. The other side holds symbol for Evergreen.

The handle is dipped in green and wrapped with beige leather. I don't know how to make a sheath, but it comes to me. Sew it backwards so that the seams are inside and turn it out. The lips envelope the sword and I put out the fire.

I leave the cave and into the black-lined silence.

Conclusion: Only through constant effort do we overcome fear.


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