ART'S TREE 5: SPECTACULAR REDEMPTION Part 1

The Spectacular Redemption of the Beautifully Unseen

Part 1 

July 2020

The Hofmmansthals and Albert

Over the sound of spring and all its birthing, one could hear the resounding wails of a truly beautiful violin player. Echoes of devastating sonatas whispered and curled over, contouring the mountains to reach even the hovering clouds. Songs twisting and stretching the clouds’ white gentle fabric like melted marshmallow over the pointy heads of rocky giants. The winds blew relentlessly, crashing into walls of stone and howling through open plains to create a sonorous symphony for the quivering strings of the aching violin. There was a dreadful tumult building. It was drowning out the jovial songs of pretty birds and silencing the sweet stirrings of spring into a somber wariness. Along the countryside, upon green-tipped foothills, in a great, elegant white mansion, through a pearly white window, in a poshly decorated room, stood a man shouldering a violin, looking long and deep into the past via an old, faded picture of a family, while clutching at his own heart.

This had been a family of unusual splendor and, fortunately for us all, one not without abundant resolve. The Hofmmansthals were a rambunctious crew of political officials, entrepreneurs, inventors, and celebrated artists with an incredible gusto for life. They reveled in all sorts of current affairs, taking an active role in both politics and the sciences. They were admired by many and envied by more. Being both the life of the party and the life of the courts was, in those days, so incredibly uncommon that their name became renowned throughout Europe. Indeed, they savored every moment as they produced operas, threw world-famous parties, and tormented government leaders into passing laws.  They were gifted and strikingly bright-eyed, touching the unseen just beyond reach; theirs was a vision embedded in the future.  Ambition was admired and welcomed amongst them. They enjoyed exercising their will and applying their imagination and their creative powers in the service of others and for the pleasure of their company. The light of the world glowed brighter when they appeared and indeed, grew dimmer with each step of their departure. Sadly, this invigorating zest for life—with all its levels of involvement and all its aesthetic wonderment—was not passed on through the magic of heredity to the budding generations to come. 

Next, came a lagging and self-indulgent generation. Living off the riches of their forefathers and taking no interest in world affairs, they quickly deteriorated into languid and wasteful young people. One might say, though,  that they weren’t fully to blame, for they were raised by strangers and knew very little of their starry, politically engaged predecessors. What happened to them was truly quite a tragic tale. While their parents heroically fought for peace and civility, this generation was to be ruefully forgotten by time. The strangers who raised them were, of course, hired help. Although the maids and caretakers had been with the family for decades, they knew not and cared not about raising ambitious, driven, and culturally refined young people. Instead, they spoiled the children rotten, acquiescing to their demands much too readily and inappropriately managing the line between employee and authority figures. Thus, this brood grew—with neither firm authority nor inspiring role models—into the most unpleasant and uninspired household in the history of this great lineage (and indeed this great mansion). They were eight in all, and all but one, Albert, had completely lost that mesmerizing light which blazed in the eyes of their ancestors. As the years passed, they all simply idled. They grew heavy and feeble, content with the ongoing monotony of daily self-indulgence. They were devoid of any ambition; they were strangers to decency and altruism. That is, all except Albert, for at an early age Albert had fallen in love with a peculiar young girl. 

Núria

She was unlike anyone he had ever met. Although Albert couldn’t quite place it, something about her seemed purer, more real, and more genuinely free than anything he had ever encountered in this world. He felt electrified at the mere sight of her. When she spoke, a current moved through him that sent his blood rushing towards his head like the roaring rapids of the Danube. She had incited a fire, turning and stirring, like a waking volcano buried deep within him.

Her father was a wealthy adventurer who traded in everything from exotic tea herbs and luxury silks to antique war relics from lands afar. He was a stubborn, unmoving man of conviction, and he insisted on bringing Núria on all of his travels, no matter the dangers that may lie therein. Núria quickly grew bored of shiny objects and fancy garments. These highly sought-after treasures surely afforded them a comfortable living and exotic travels, but she cared very little for the valuables. 

As a young and playful child, Núria was often dismayed at the almost constant attention these precious trinkets received, the way they seemed to consume and possess some people. She cared for one so-called precious thing: an amulet given to her by her mother before she passed. It was a beautiful garden of flowers and thorny roses cast in silver, holding a deep purple amethyst.  Pressing it to her heart in the palm of her hand, she’d connect internally with her mother and feel the world beyond. Núria kept it with her at all times. During her teens, while other kids were attending school, Núria and her father traveled the eastern world. They traded with colorful merchants and sold to prestigious noblemen as well as members of the various royal courts. Through these broad journeys, Núria learned to value people and their ways, their cultures and traditions, and even their mannerisms brought her joy.

  By the age of twenty-two, Albert had had enough of his kin and he finally abandoned the deplorable bunch for a life with Núria, with whom he was madly in love. This pair were lovely from a distance, and even lovelier close by. They were a beautiful, radiant couple, like two stars sitting on the ocean, with shimmering waves all around them. Even in the cool breeze of autumn’s eve, their love glowed like a fiery ember, the warmth of which could be felt throughout the entire village. Núria had long black hair and translucent green eyes, deep like watery caves of sparkling emeralds. She was a lavish sight to behold, though she dressed softly and simply in her own elegant way. Her beauty grew and blossomed in the many dimensions of life. She had a brilliant mind for philosophy, a skillful hand for the arts, and she was known for being one of the kindest, most compassionate women of her community. 

The Orphanage

  Núria ran an orphanage in the northern hills of India, where the summers aren’t quite as unforgiving. The hardship of poverty, however, cut as deeply here as anywhere in the world. Albert was her assistant as well as the orphanage’s star English teacher. His blue eyes made him something of a celebrity amongst the children and also amongst many adults in the Punjabi village. His kind demeanor and debonair style significantly contributed to the mystifying and charming air about him. Albert was gentle in his ways and the children loved him for it very much. Not only that, but the orphans also learned and performed exceedingly well in his classroom. There was something intrinsically intriguing about Albert. He seemed to approach and relate to each child in a manner which was wholly unique to each individual. One might say that he spoke each child’s special unspoken language. Albert felt that he could tune into each child, and he could sense the unique song of each one’s soul.  Before long, Albert’s popularity in the small village attracted the attention of a senior officer in the British Embassy who, of course, knew and admired Albert’s father. And the rest, as they say, worked itself out. Before he knew it, Albert had become a diplomat in the British Embassy which sat two towns away. On the morning of the first day of his new career, the children of the orphanage were so sad to lose their favorite English teacher that they made him a handkerchief with the seal of the  Sri Yantra which was the seal of the orphanage. 

Margarette, Richard and Estlin

Back at the mansion, tucked away in the green-tipped foothills of humble giants, hatched the new generation. Albert’s younger sister Margarette had managed to wed a handsome nobleman. Of all of Albert’s siblings, he was most fond of Margarete, for she was always sweet—perhaps not ambitious, but not demanding either. In those early years, a kind bond had developed between them. Albert took it upon himself to care for his younger sister. He stood up for her whenever necessary and made sure she kept warm during winter outings. Margarette looked up to her older brother with admiration and affection. She was due in the spring, (suggestion: her child was due at Spring)  and Albert was to be the child’s Godfather.

    As it should happen, and it often does, Margaret gave birth to twins. She had two beautiful, heart-healthy boys with pearly eyes that glimmered like wet silver moons. Richard and Estlin were identical except for the very slight margins in their weight and the sharpness of their noses. Richard possessed rounder, softer features while Estlin was made of right angles and straight lines, giving his face an overall sharper appearance. They each grew into smart, strong, young boys. Margarette and her husband would also have three girls in the following years. 

Albert’s younger sister Of all of Albert’s siblings, he was most fond of Margarete, for she was always sweet—perhaps not ambitious, but not demanding either. In those early years, a kind bond had developed between them. Albert took it upon himself to care for his younger sister. He stood up for her whenever necessary and made sure she kept warm during winter outings. Margarette looked up to her older brother with admiration and affection. She had managed to wed a handsome nobleman and their baby was due in the spring. Albert was to be the child’s Godfather.

Back at the mansion, tucked away in the green-tipped foothills of humble giants, hatched the new generation. As it should happen, and often does, Margarette gave birth to twins. She had two beautiful, heart-healthy boys with pearly eyes that glimmered like wet silver moons. Richard and Estlin were identical except for the very slight margins in their weight and the sharpness of their noses. Richard possessed rounder, softer features, while Estlin was made of right angles and straight lines, giving his face an overall sharper appearance. They each grew into smart and strong young boys. Margarette and her husband would also have three girls in the years to come. 

Sooner than anyone had anticipated, the war began to make its way over the hills. Margarette’s new family, vulnerable and unprepared, were forced to flee. Margarette’s husband had to leave his career and most of his assets behind. Demand was great on the withering resources the family had left.  In order to alleviate the pressure, they decided to send Richard—the stronger of the boys—off to India to live with his godfather, Albert. Never before, in their fourteen tender years, had the twins been apart. In fact, they’d been nearly inseparable. The twins shared virtually everything there was to share in this world: friends, toys, food, clothes, a bedroom and many hobbies. They were best friends.  Although they did not want to part, they both understood the gravity of the situation and each assumed the responsibility bestowed upon him with admirable poise. 

India

Upon his arrival in India, Richard was assaulted by a flamboyant cornucopia of roaring sounds, smells, and colors. This was a vastly different world. It seemed like sheer chaos—wild, disorienting. But there was an underlying coherence as that of tornado, full of the unpredictable.  (Suggestions: But there was an underlying coherence, as tornado whirls are patterned but its movement fully unpredictable. And: There was an underlying presence like a tornado, full of the unpredictable. Or: But there was an underlying coherence as that of tornado, whose whirls  spiral and repeat but its direction fully unpredictable.) Richard quickly realized that this planet is much bigger than he could ever have reasoned or scarcely imagined. It was startling to think that one could travel a few days and arrive at such an entirely different world, populated by a different race, governed by different laws, and held together by such strange customs.   Richard could feel that there was excitement in the air. 

“Is it always like this?” he asked Albert.

“It is. Here in the city, anyway,” said Albert with a smile, “this doesn’t stop.” 

Richard looked on with a lazy smile and glistening eyes sparkling with wonderment and awe. They traveled in silence for several hours. The scenery gradually shifted from the festive bouquet of villages into a serenely streaming blur of green jungle leaves and dark rock formations. By the time they reached the orphanage, Richard was sound asleep. The orphanage sat on the outskirts of a small town called Gilai, surrounded by a vast and auspicious rainforest. 

Rainforest

    Late one afternoon, Richard wandered into the immense and magnificent forest alone. He walked on gently. Though he was still a young lad, he had already become very quiet in his motions. He spent time in nature and was beginning to blend secretly with its stillness. The sun was dipping in its own purple haze upon the horizon. The leaves of the forest that crowded around him began to glow with golden rays. 

A subtle breeze carried a distinct scent into the air surrounding Richard. It was floating over from the northeast, away from the setting sun, and it was sweet like jasmine. Richard knew he wasn't alone; the aroma was not from these woods. He wasn’t the only one deep in the rainforest. He followed the scent and soon heard a familiar voice-—no, two voices. He crept closer and found a good vantage point from which to observe without being seen. There he saw two bodies, mostly naked, shining like fine bronze armor in folds of golden sunbeams, surrounded by glowing leaves, and intertwined, like the vines of the trees surrounding them. The lovers were reciting poetry to one another intently. Each was holding a lotus flower and staring deep into the other’s eyes:

We are moved by the rhythm

Of celestial beings

Swirling into one another

Glowing gold, shining diamonds,

Our bodies expand

into creamy oceans 

and sparkling sands

The perfume of flowers 

and pearls of moonlight

Glowing gold, shining diamonds,

My soul elated

As it finds its place 

in the center of You.

 Richard was mesmerized by the words he heard and by the familiar and intoxicating sound of the woman's voice to whom those words belonged. He felt a dimension open within, and something released, like the seal on a freshly opened jar. Something expanded within him as if he were surfacing from a very deep underwater dive. The space within him grew as he sat there, motionless. He drew a long luminous breath into the growing space within. He began to feel a magnetic pull as if the gravitational field around him was getting stronger. There was a subtle but palpable electric buzzing throughout his body. His eyelids grew heavy under the weight of this air, and he slipped gently into a trance. When he came to, Núria and Albert were standing over him, gazing at him curiously, tilting their heads at different angles as they studied him breathlessly. 

“What are you doing out here?” Núria asked.

“Well, I...I’m not sure. I was just walking through the woods when…” Richard told them what had happened. He spoke of the scene he'd witnessed a mere two minutes before, when he’d  lost his grip on the ordinary state of things. He spoke of the trance, the visions, the feelings, and the sounds that he had experienced. 

“I saw various shapes and symbols as I descended through a mesh-like tunnel. This tunnel was embroidered with geometric patterns, and at the center, behind a dim light, there was a striking pulsating symbol floating in space. This shape captivated me. It commanded my attention like nothing ever has. It was like a mirage of stacked pyramids—several pyramids, some facing down and some facing up, interlocked with one another.” 

Núria stopped him. She reached into her bag and produced an emblem.

 “Did you see this?” On it was an image of the Sri Yantra, which had been handed down throughout her lineage for generations. It was one of the most ancient and most powerful Yantras in Vedic culture.

  Núria had seen something in Richard from the first time they met. She had studied the way Richard carried himself in the crowded port when he arrived. He possessed a poise and a grace that was far beyond his years. He moved without effort and observed without attempting to label or analyze what he saw. He simply took in the scene without hesitation nor objection. Many Westerners are easily overwhelmed when they first arrive in India, but this child kept his calm, clean and centered. One could see the flame of deliberate intention blazing behind his eyes and feel the power of his kindness in the touch of his hand. He was a gifted young lad. 

Núria decided to stay in the woods with Richard and share with him some tales as well as some deep silence. After sitting for some time—considerable though immeasurable—Richard opened his eyes.

        “The poem I heard you speak. Those words held me. No, it wasn’t the words. I felt as though...” Richard looked into the distance before him.“There was a...” He gestured with his hand, his fingers dancing lightly like flames in front of his face. “There was electricity in your voice.” 

          “Yes, you see, we—your uncle and I—were in a state of samadhi. I was completely absorbed in oneness with source consciousness, manifest creation, and your uncle, all as one. I was speaking with devotion the words of that connection. I was riding a current, a frequency, much like a surfer rides a wave. I was riding that current of energy and giving it a voice for your uncle and myself, and for the forest and the people of this land.” She put her hand on her heart and tilted her head with a lighthearted smile as she turned her eyes to his. “Do you understand?” 

Richard nodded his head.

       “At some point,” Richard added, “I became aware of my own awareness, and everything else faded away. Thoughts, images, memories, concerns—there was nothing else It was as if I were being pulled into eternity. For the very first time, I saw myself underneath all the masks of the mind—just pure, naked. And, well, it was absolutely rapturous; it was perhaps the most sublime feeling I’ve ever experienced. And yet I wasn’t even there—not in the way that I’m here, speaking with you right now. It was as though I were being experienced and the experience itself was alive. Does that make any sense?”

Núria flashed a knowing smile as she gathered her things and began towards the village in silence. 

Richard’s Journey

    Richard was enamored, and to many, he seemed obsessed. He went back into the forest day after day. Núria would often find him there “by chance” and would tell him of the great Maha-Yogis, Rishis, and holy men of the East. 

Nityananda, who was said to have never been born,  was found in the jungle by local villagers at a young age. He’d sleep on the roofs of Mosques and Ashrams and some even say  naked on the desert sand gazing at the sun from sunrise to sunset, only to retreat into the jungle and “find” money for local clinics or ashrams. Nityananda was also famous for walking into fancy shops and throwing their candy out onto the street for the poor children to have. Then there was Ramana Maharishi, who at the age of fourteen left his home after a sudden awakening, settled on Arunachala to meditate, and never left that hill for the rest of his life—approximately 70 years.  Some say he appeared to genuine seekers, inviting them to Arunachala from distant lands.

The moment Richard had completed his studies at the orphanage, he would slip away and go off into the woods to sit in silence for hours. Then he’d sing with the birds or climb with the monkeys. He would sit among the trees indefinitely. He would stare at a flower, tirelessly studying its symmetry, blending with its colors, learning its secrets. Its beauty would open his heart and the scent of wild flowers blooming reminded Richard of the heavenly spirit realms he’d visited in dreams and visions. He was enchanted by the richness of life, the clarity of God’s design, and the undertow of serene harmony that flowed through nature. Some nights, when the moon was bright, he would recite poetry similar to what he had heard from Núria.

Holy prisms collectively brush sight,

Like a feather on water, 

impressing upon space

Making a thing to appear,

Or seem to appear

out there, 

Prisms spinning in place

ripe with edible light

Sprouting rainbows that glide into the mouth of a mirror

next to soaring birds that lend their attention…

Returning from one of his visits deep into the myriad realms of the jungle, Richard sensed some commotion coming from the village. He furled his brow, closed his eyes for a moment, and darted in the direction of the orphanage. There was a great cacophonous ordeal playing out in front of one of the small shops which occupied the dusty road near the orphanage. Three young children were hollering wildly while a large man viciously held another child by the arm. The man was a spooky, ancient-looking shop owner named Haru. He had seen this child steal something from his shop. He forcibly searched the boy but was still unable to find anything on him. By the time Richard arrived on the scene, Haru had pulled the young frightened child off the ground by his arm. He swung the child about, shaking him like a dusty old mat while barking at him:

 “Give it back you little rat! I know you took it! Give it back!” But the child and his friends all insisted they hadn’t stolen anything and they begged Haru to let their friend go.

Richard began to whistle a traditional Hindu hymn as he approached the scene. His whistle was strong and steady;it carried a familiar melody throughout the village with resounding bravado. As he got closer, Haru and the children began to quiet down, looking in Richard's direction for the source of the haunting whistling. Richard, paying them no mind, noticed a furry little bee on the ground, its wings in the dirt and its tiny stick-legs kicking in the air to no avail. Richard knelt down and calmly picked up the bee. He gently placed it, feet down, on the palm of his luminous hand. He raised the bee up to his lips while continuing to whistle. He brought it closer so as to bathe the bee in the stream of his song. Slowly, the reverberating vibrations of the sound waves emanating from Richard’s lips combined with the gentle breeze of his breath and began to shake the dust off the bee's wings, eyes, and antennae. Gradually the bee was restored. It gave itself a final shake, like a tiny wet dog shaking dirty water off its fur. Just as the bee was ready to take off, a boy about Richard’s age appeared on the scene. He was dark, all eyes, and skinnier than most. Like Richard, he wore only a single long cloth draped around his waist, but this boy’s dhoti dragged slightly on the ground and had seen much, much better days. The teenager made a brave face, took a deep breath, and held out his hand, extending it stoically towards Haru. In his hand was a trinket about the size of a hand. It was a miniature statue of the divine union of Shiva and Shakti which included a beautiful, rare granite stone in Shiva’s third eye. Before long, Haru realized he had made a mistake. The teenage boy was very small for his age. From behind, his back gave a remarkable resemblance to that of the child Haru had been dangling by the arm. Richard smiled at the teenager, collected the four young kids, and spoke directly to Haru:

 “It seems there has been a misunderstanding, now we will forgive you as you will forgive this boy.” Haru was stunned. Haru stunned. He stood there speechless in his shame. The teenager placed the statue in Haru’s hand and ran off.

To be continued...

By Mario Gonzalez-Lam