Peaks and Valleys

The sun wove its path, bowing to the moon's gentle command, or perhaps it was the sun leading, and the moon faithfully followed. Al witnessed this eternal ballet, where light gave warmth and night brought shade. 

He chose the winding roads of villages, shunning the towering cities. Al preferred the steady cadence of his steps, and it seemed the world shared in this indifference to his passage.

"Loh' I think I know what you meant now the sun is the One, the moon and stars the All… The One is always 3. Warmth, Fire, and Light. Is the Sun the origin of the 3 or does it follow the Law which is beyond it?" Al pondered with the absence of emotion and detachment he lost himself in objective observation. 

All he needed was his map as a cultivator in the Mental Domain; he had no real need for sleep or food. The only thing he carried was the map Sant Prasad had given him. The months passed and the season changed from Fall to Winter. "I guess that frog was wrong. I'm still breathing and alive." Al said to himself, dismissing the cryptic words of the astral frog nonchalant shrug. The map guided him to a point within the northern mountain range.

In the intervals between pondering the interplay of the One which was Three and the All, his thoughts would turn to the concept of perfection, Five and 108. 

As time flowed on, the land cloaked itself in a quilt of snow, mirroring the hue of Al's hair and robe. By the time the peaks of the mountain range emerged into view, he stood but a few strides from their base. He cast his eyes from the map to the summit, resolute in his onward journey. What greeted him were not the diminutive creatures of the jungles, but towering, mythical beings that encircled the mountain. Their gaze bore into him, a mixture of curiosity and caution. Once satisfied, they returned to their own contemplations, leaving Al to his quest.

Al pressed onward, his Stubborn Will warding off the numbing cold, his etheric shell now whole, allowing his inner strength to flow freely. Halfway up, he stumbled upon a gathering of cloaked figures, deep in meditation amidst the biting snow. They acknowledged him, yet remained in their tranquil repose, save for one who broke the silence.

"What are you seeking?" the figure inquired.

Al took out his map and handed it to the man "Sant Prasad told me there was a school here. I'm looking for…" Al was about to say he was looking for any information on the nearest Mortal Ring of the Supreme leaf. However, he recalled Benjamin who learned and studied teachings outside the cultivation world. "I'm looking for truth." 

The man's laughter rippled through the frigid air, a sound that struck Al as unexpected. "Why should a cultivator concern himself with the affairs of mortals?" he jested.

Al didn't respond immediately. He took a moment to mull over the man's words, letting them unfurl like a scroll before him. "What is death, after all? The sun sets, and the day takes its last breath, only to awaken anew with the dawn. Do we not, share in that cycle of death and rebirth with each passing day?" 

The man observed Al studying his countenance and nodded agreeing with him.

"And what name do you go by?" the man inquired.

"Alexander Adamos," Al replied.

"Well Alexander if truth is what you seek, you will not find it in cultivation. Come let me introduce you to our school's precious jewel, Master Roshan." Al followed the man as the rest of his group continued their meditation.

They ascended, winding their way to the rear of the mountain. Al couldn't help but be astounded by the man's resilience and agility, considering he was not a cultivator. Despite the obstructed view caused by the snow, the man, who had been silent throughout the journey, navigated with a surefooted confidence.

Just as Al's senses were enveloped by the snowy landscape, a 30 ft astral dragon, resplendent in its azure glow, swooped past him, captivating his attention. The dragon seamlessly melded into the man's form, entering him without a trace.

"The astral realm... what exactly is it?" Al mused. It was as if his thoughts summoned a response, for the man abruptly halted.

"Stay here," he instructed. Al obeyed, remaining rooted to the spot as the man continued onward. The wait was brief, less than half an hour, before the man returned, offering a proper introduction.

"Master Roshan had been expecting your arrival," he revealed. "Continue forward; the gates await you." With those words, the man retraced his steps, descending the mountain.

Al advanced a few strides, and before him loomed an immense, breathtaking monastery, crafted from the rich hues of redwood and dark timber. As the man had foretold, the gates stood wide open, beckoning him forth into a sanctuary of orange-robed Buddhist monks. No one awaited him at the entrance; instead, an orange astral tiger fixed its gaze upon him mere feet away. With a graceful pivot, the astral tiger set off, periodically glancing back to ensure Al followed in its steps.

The astral tiger guided Al through the interior of the main building, up to the third floor. Along the way, he passed monks engaged in enigmatic dances, intricate mudras, and melodious chants on the second floor. On the floor below, monks toiled away, painting and transcribing ancient verses onto parchment paper while others watched in hushed conversations that seemed to flutter like whispers.

Finally, they arrived at the pinnacle, the third floor, where a solitary chamber awaited. Al knocked upon the door, though the astral tiger effortlessly phased through it. From within, an ancient voice resonated, granting permission. "You may enter."

Al cautiously pushed the door open, revealing a man in deep meditation. The figure sat in stillness, gazing through a grand window that framed a majestic vista of neighboring mountain peaks and the valleys below. "Take a seat, Alexander," the man beckoned, introducing himself as Roshan Aditya. He encouraged Al to share in the contemplation of the panoramic view. 

Without a word, Al complied, occupying a spot beside the bald man, who appeared to be approaching the twilight of his mortal existence. As they both gazed upon the world beyond, Roshan Aditya broke the silence.

"According to young Pankaj Hira, you seek truth. Tell me, how do you define truth?" Roshan inquired. Al had been contemplating this since his conversation with Pankaj, and he responded promptly. "I don't know what truth is, only what 'The truth' is. Without 'The', I lose truth, and 'The' is but a mere point within space and time."

Master Roshan emitted a sound, a resonance of complete comprehension. "The truth you seek pertains to the essence of the world. However, as a cultivator, that truth will offer you little benefit," he acknowledged.

Al recollected his conversation with Pankaj and responded serenely, "Is that because I am striving for Immortality?"

Pankaj's smile held wisdom. "Even Immortals, in the grand scope of this world, remain but children. We are presented with two fundamental choices as children of this world. I'm certain one of your many Western thinkers must have realized this - the options are 'to be or not to be.'"

Al found himself entranced by the profundity of the man's words, yet his heart remained serene and steady. "And which path have you chosen?" he inquired.

Master Roshan turned his gaze back to the expansive view before him. "To be," he responded. "Consciousness individuates, fractures, and then reunites. Through the passage of time, it evolves into a mountain that may breach the heavens. Each summit, no matter how grand, carries an air of solitude. In the valley, waters converge, forming lakes. Every drop loses itself, merging with others. Life flourishes and congregates in the valley, while the peak endures in its solitude."

Al's understanding deepened. Cultivators, like mountains, embody the essence of "To be." He turned his gaze to the majestic peaks, their summits cloaked in a mantle of snow. "So, is Truth then to be found in the lowest?" he mused aloud.

Master Roshan's gaze descended, then shifted to the left. "The lowest is born in the West," he replied.

Al interjected, struck by a sudden realization born from Loh's words. "The All is born in the West, and it is like a Valley."

Master Roshan's smile indicated approval. "Correct. Now you're beginning to grasp it."

Another thought sprang forth in Al's mind, inspired by Benjamin's teachings about seeking truth in the refractions. "How can you be so certain that truth resides within the All, and not in between the One and the All?" he questioned, meeting Master Roshan's gaze with curiosity.

"And what lies in between?" Master Roshan inquired, keen to hear Al's insight.

Al's thoughts circled, then settled upon Loh's teachings regarding the interplay of the One and the All. "It is the Word," he ventured.

Master Roshan's gaze lifted, as if digesting the response. He followed up with another question. "The word is the Truth... And what, then, is the word?"

Al, unsure of the answer, shook his head, conceding his uncertainty.

"Well, Alexander, you've granted me a few more years of contemplation before my time comes. I'm not sure whether to thank you or curse you," Master Roshan mused, a hearty laugh punctuating his words. He then added, "So, what else would you like to discuss?"

With a smile, Al delved into his understanding of perfection, Five and 108.