The Key (A Fairytale) — Chapter 6: Skeletons And Snakes (Part 2)

I walked back to where a John was waiting and told him about the skeleton. He said he was well aware of the tragic situation and then told me the rest of the story.

"Soon after the woman died, her body was placed in a sealed box and stored beneath one of the huts to cure, for it would take two years before the flesh could be easily removed. During that time, the robed men who slept in the hut, using the hut and circumstances to improve their inner work, had many visits from her in the form of a ghost that constantly roamed the area searching for her children. The key seekers came to know her quite well, and were saddened by the pain she could not resolve. She had imprisoned her spirit here, unable to go on because of her attachment to her children.

"One day, a key keeper arrived in the community; one of those rare individuals who had found his key, and this particular one had dedicated his life to teaching. When he heard the story of this poor woman's ghost, he talked with her husband briefly and then asked permission to stay in the hut under which her body was being stored.

"On the first night, the ghost came by to visit," a John continued, "It knew that the key keeper was there to help. The robed man quietly talked to the ghost regarding the human condition, saying that everybody loses their loved ones eventually when either we depart or they depart, and this is not something we can change or would want to change, as then the earth would be overflowing with humanity. The key keeper said that he was sorry that she was so young when death took her from her son and infant daughter, and before she had a chance to raise them, but that death is always unpredictable.

'Can you tell me of any elder villagers you know of who have not lost their parents, either at a young age or as they became older?' asked the key keeper.

The ghost thought for a moment and then replied, I cannot think of anyone who is older, and even some that are young, that has not gone through this terrible experience.'

When a young child loses its parent, or when a young mother loses her child, it is always devastating,' consoled the key keeper, but we are never alone in our grief, for these things happen to many people during the human experience. The love and care you have given your children while they were with you will carry them through this lifetime, and your husband, who is a very good man, will never forget you. As the children grow older, he will always remind them how wonderful you were and how much you loved them.

But it is best for you to go on now. Be assured that your children will do well because I have seen their past lives; which are quite advanced actually, and nothing will harm them in an evil way anymore. I have also looked deeply into your past lives and can assure you that the harsh physical and mental pain you have endured and accepted in this lifetime will move you into the immaterial world. Once there, depending on your progress, you might become a perfected being and never have to return to physical life again to face the sadness this worldly life entails.'

"The key keeper stopped speaking," a John comtinued, "and they both remained silent, as the ghost furtively glanced around for her children. She then began to sob, crying for a long time until the teacher finally said that it was time for her to leave, and that everything would be alright. She reluctantly looked around one more time, and then drifted out of the hut and into the forest, as she turned into a point of light.

"Her ghost was never seen again after that night," said a John, finishing his story, "and under the box where her body was being stored; deep wild orchids, deep purple ones, began to grow, which are very rare in this part of the forest."

Two key seekers came out of the hall and caught up with us, giving us each a small, rolled up mat for use when sleeping or practicing our inner work, and then offered to show us to our huts. When a John casually asked if a key seeker by the name of Moosawa had arrived, they laughed, and one of them said, 'The snake man! Whenever we see a dangerous snake, we call, Moosawa,' and he comes running to catch it. He claims to take them far away and release them so that they can do no harm to any of us in the community.'

A John laughed at their story, but then requested a hut near Moosawa. The two key seekers looked at him whimsically and asked if he was going to help catch snakes as well. A John smiled and said that he was sure that there would be something to catch.

One of the men led a John across the courtyard, while the other accompanied me one-half mile down a trail deep into the forest where he pointed out the hut that would be my home for the next four months. He went out of his way to remind me that my path from the hut to the main hall was to be swept every day, without fail.

The hut was situated on the upper end of a massive, flat rock. There were large rocks on both sides with deep ravines between, a haven for cobras, and surrounding everything was dense jungle. The hut was built on the customary four stilts, each of which had a small pan fashioned around it filled with water to keep out the ants and termites. Seven steps led to a small porch at the entrance of the small hut which had two large, shuttered windows to protect the key seeker from the drenching storms that would soon arrive.

The straw roof looked as if it would hold up well during the rains and was well away from low hanging branches that always invite vipers to drop off trees and become unwelcome guests. Inside on the floor were a lantern and water jug, and in a corner was a table with a candle and some incense. The solitary adornments on the back wall were a pair of the ever-present geckos; foot long lizards that considered this hut their home as well.

The floor and walls were made of planks cut from large trees by villagers using a two-man saw and cutting the logs end-to-end to make boards. This was backbreaking, tedious work, and their generosity again astounded me. These impoverished villagers gave up a great deal of their time and resources to support key seekers, and I vowed to work as hard as I could to find my key so that I could someday repay them.

After living in the forest with leaky, lean-to shelters for more than five years, this hut was paradise!

Later in the day, we joined the robed men at the well near the main hall for the afternoon bath, where we each were given a bucket of cold water and a bathing cloth, which was a short skirt woven in the villages and then donated to the men. This bathing area also served as a meeting place where the men met twice a month to make their bamboo brooms for sweeping the paths and to wash and dye their donated robes by boiling them with orange colored bark from Jackfruit trees. (We always used some of the hot water to treat ourselves to a hot bath every two weeks!).

I walked back to my hut after the delightful bath and was able to practice my inner work for the first time without ants and termites crawling all over me, a constant aggravation in the forest, and I couldn't have been happier. I had two geckos as companions and my inner work was improving, too. I was also now quite relaxed in the "pretzel" sitting position and thoughts did not plague me as they did initially. I was finally beginning to feel at ease with this practice; the fertile soil my heart was growing in.

A few hours before sunrise, I could hear a distant bell ringing alerting me that it was time to light my lantern and make my way through the dark jungle on the narrow half-mile path to the hall. When I arrived, the robed men were filing in and arranging themselves on the stone floor in rows so that we could comfortably sit side by side to practice our inner work. The candles, the hall, and the dark jungle outside, with these robed men silently sitting together, created an atmosphere of intense serenity that was supportive of my fledgling endeavors. I always looked forward to this gathering of robed men in the mysterious, early morning hours, and it became one of my most precious memories of these months of the rains.

I fell into a daily routine where we would sit together for a couple of hours in the early mornings, practicing our inner work until one of the senior key seekers would go outside as dawn was breaking to see if he could make out the lines on the palm of his hand. Being able to recognize the lines was the signal, as a John had explained, for us to adjust our robes and start walking to the surrounding villages to beg for food. The timing would get us there exactly at sunrise when the villagers expected us.

A John and I would go with a small group that had a route across some fields toward the east and the rising sun, where we passed many rice paddies with scores of snakes, both in the water and on the banks craning their bodies and flicking their tongues to smell what was coming. There were mango, banana, and coconut trees speckling the landscape, as the beautiful sun, a floating red ball dancing on the horizon, came over the far hills to greet us. Everything was pristine and peaceful, as we walked in silence, concentrating on our inner work with our heads bowed in respect for the villagers who were supporting our efforts.

One day, a young maiden was among a group of supporters who was standing with their baskets of food offerings. With bowed head, I accidentally peeked at her, and my heart fluttered. She was beautiful, innocent, with long, shiny black hair and dark, almond shaped eyes, and she lingered in my mind for the entire walk back to the community.

The meal was always eaten silently, as a group, inside the hall, and accompanied by a few villagers who would remain to hear the customary talk by one of the senior key seekers. After the meal one morning, the robed man who had given me my mat on that first day asked if I would consider taking on a duty to help the community. I, of course, consented, and the key seeker explained that I would be responsible for ringing the bell every morning at three a.m. to signal everybody to come to the hall. Handing me an hourglass, he made it clear that this was a very responsible duty and that I would be required to wake up earlier than the rest of the community. I anticipated no problems and pledged to ring the bell without fail.

While walking back to my hut that afternoon after the bath, I noticed that, indeed, the leaves really do pile up this time of year, as the path was almost covered. I was tired however and decided to sweep the long, half-mile path the next afternoon, notwithstanding this very subtle nagging in my heart that told me that I should do it now; that silent voice I was not yet completely in touch with.

I threw myself into my inner work all night, worrying that if I fell asleep I wouldn't wake up in time to perform my duty and ring the bell. Finally, the hourglass approached three o'clock so I lit my lantern and sleepily started toward the hall. I could barely make out the path in the darkness because of the thick layer of leaves, and again reminded myself to sweep the path later that day without fail.

I stumbled along for a while, until I thought I saw a leaf move just as I was about to step down. I stopped and looked closer. Sure enough, underneath the leaves, moving very slowly across the path were the deadly black and yellow rings of a Banded Krait, one of the most poisonous snakes in the forest. I froze, as it made its way into the forest, and then I started to back away, but right behind me, leaves were moving again! It was another Krate. I directed my lantern down the path and leaves were moving as far as I could see! The entire area was covered with snakes.

I stood perfectly still, but even so, two cobras were coming straight for where I was standing. I took a step sideways, and when I did, I felt something under my bare foot. It was a Krait, and before I could jump away, it whirled with lightening speed and struck my ankle.

I knew immediately, in the pit of my stomach, that I had no chance to survive, so I just sat down in the leaves and waited for the snake's poison to take its toll, pounding the ground with my fist for being so stupid. Why didn't I sweep that path? Now I would never find the key.

A John's gripping question flashed in my mind: "Are you ready to die at any moment?" And I realized that I wasn't. I could not accept this tragedy; I had so much more to do! How could I know what awaited me in another lifetime, or if I would be fortunate enough to encounter somebody in that next lifetime that was familiar with this incredible key? I was so close, and now . . . so far. ( To be continued)