Vision from a Treetop

[cryptomancer]

“……………..!!!!!!!!”

 

The wordless scream of frustration was the parting shot. It ran from his mind through his teeth, ever as the cold winter air bit into him, feeding voraciously on his anger.

 

He didn’t remember the driveway, or the first two kilometers of road through the jungles of suburbia. His anger flowed free, not him, not him; he had better control than this.

 

Just after mid winter, clear night, no clouds. Typical of nights in the cool subtropics, clear sky, gave birth to frosts, so tonight for all its beauty, froze him. The cold numbing him, drawing off the anger, considering his attire, just a cotton business shirt, Levi 501s, sneakers, the two rings, one on each hand, and the chain, his charm as a pendant, small earring; nothing that the wind could not chew through to get to his warmth, dissipating it in its mouth along with his anger.

 

He knew the roads; he ran them for fun, for fitness, mostly to unwind. At this point, hell turning around and walking three kilometers home didn’t appeal. His mood was the sullen mask of melancholy, annoyed at his own outburst, 14 years of control on the emotion and he lost it so fast, once his fuse lit. Walking back now was not a good plan, he needed to control it all again, retying the bonds, replacing the locks on the shattered confinement that had held it for so long.

 

His meditation came fast. Practice and the cold focused his mind, relaxing against the shivers and chills of winter. Mentally his colour changed from the glowing embers of his emotion, to the cool dark blue of his element. Air; cold and comforting, and as his body lost its heat, so his mind gained strength. He felt the energy surge hit his system as the first of his charka gave to his mental control, the second and third boosted the awareness to his preferred levels, opening the doors to his observant nature as the levels of focus grew. The third charka, his second favorite to unmask, gave its disembodiment to him, gifting his limbs with the tickling of external fields of power, letting the lines of energy around him flow over fingers, and hands as he reached to touch. Heart, voice; then eye, his most powerful, the giver of sight of his nature, the giver of visions, and dreams, opened to his call, filling his mind with the awareness of the starlight, the fading moon waxing to its half. As the power completed in the opening of his seventh, the flow became visual, a spike of light from base to roof, linking his body to the sky, planting his foundations in the synthetic rock of the pavement. He glowed, and his surroundings grew to daylight brilliance as his awareness and focus peaked.

 

The fifth measure of his journey found him on the potholed road leading to the cliffs of the peninsula, which held his home at its base. The golf course, was deserted and dark, completely unlit, shaded by trees, and the surrounding waters of the gulf from all but the winter breath blowing from the Antarctic south, kissing his skin with memories of ice. Darkness and air, his friend, his element, good companions tonight, and his need for company was great. The life of the grass shone to him, the trees iridescent in the near midnight atmosphere. Extending himself beyond the physical confinement of his shell, he touched the life around him, feeling its energy flow into tired limbs, energizing the fibers of his being. Removing his shirt, he tied it to his belt, his skin shone in the glow of energies surrounding him, and as he stopped at the water feature in the 13th hole, he smiled for the first time. Lying down in the dew, he soaked in the flooding power of nature, watched the water of the pond gleam and change, caressing the shore of its cage, and drinking the energies of the plants at its edge. The grass, trees, and weeds in the pool’s rim, fed on the light of the cool air, and the shimmering liquid. His body became a inconsequential vessel, air and water flowing over his skin as the dew settled upon skin, and the grass poured its life into his relaxing muscles. This was better, focus and control always felt good. Sitting up he reached out his mind and touched the trees around his dark sanctuary, opening the doors to his centre, opening the core of his power to the kiss of nature. The trees called in a soft vocalizing of leaf and air, kisses of wind on bark, his body moved, no thought just flow, just the will of power guiding him again. Shell of man touched the dark skin of plant, pine, tall, free, and his spirit leaped, climbed flew, and at the tip, the pinnacle of wooden life and deep rooted age, he stopped.

 

The air through the trees wrapped his empty form in the blankets of winter dew, cooling his rage, softening his soul as he stood, free, upon the treetop. Breathing the sea air, seeing the glory of creation through the sight of his sixth charka, tasting its power as it unleashed its beauty upon his bare soul. Looking across the empty waters of the Hauraki, to the islands and northern city lights, giving contours of man to the curves of natural shape, he stood and watched, learning of beauty, seeing the love of life kindle in the fires of his being, knowing the powers that walked with him, training his sight allowing him to see, to know, to be a teacher of those that denied it.

 

He went home and apologized, kissed, held, cried, and life renewed itself around the small wounds. Pain dulled, and left. But he still remembers his view.

 

Upon the treetop, in the golf course on the point, his soul learned of the power of beauty.

He saw with the eyes of his soul the glory of life, he touched the power of creation, and walked home, a new man.