But may be this is some evil spirit trying to lure me to my death. The seeker thought to herself as she had been fooled by heartless charlatans in the past.
“Can you come over and lead me across?” She asked.
“No, you must cross the pass by yourself.”
In the dense fog, the seeker had no other choice but to follow the voice. Somehow, she felt in her heart a deep trust as if she had heard this voice before. So, with her hands reaching out in front of her, she took the first step with great fear—what if the voice was really the conjuration of an evil spirit, would it lead her to the abyss? With great hesitation, she took the first step and felt her foot land on solid ground. Ah, this give her confidence. With each step she took she grew more and more confident and felt she could place more faith in the voice. But then she found herself swinging and no longer on solid ground. She was on the bridge. Suddenly she was seized by a great panic and locked into a catatonic state.
“Keep walking, you are almost across,” said the voice gently.
“I can’t! I am afraid of heights, and I am on the bridge! And I know the bridge is not very wide,” cried the seeker.
“Oh nonsense, this bridge I have crossed a thousand times; it is wide enough to let an elephant pass. Come on, you can do it,” encouraged the voice.
Then, all of a sudden, a great gust of
wind blew in her face. The seeker saw an apparition of something dark and
ominous in front of her.
She cringed and started to step backward.
“Do not step back, stop!” the voice yelled, slicing through the thick fog like a blade.
The seeker stopped but whimpered “there is something in front of me, I can’t get past it.”
“You idiot, what thing? What you see is your own shadow projected onto the mist. All right, I am tired of this. I am going to go home and leave you alone,” said the voice with disdain.
In a burst of panic, she broke through
the inertia and started to walk again. She passed right through the dark
ominous shadow of herself
and felt elation--as if some old dead
skin was being peeled away from her soul. She felt very light hearted and
wanted to dance.
Again the voice cried out “No, don’t dance yet, walk simply placing one foot in front of the other.”
“Oh but I feel so good, what you said was true, that it was only my shadow. Why can’t I dance?” asked the seeker.
“There is no reason, just trust me,” the voice said. “Now listen, for the last part of the bridge, you must leave all your things behind.
With reluctance, the seeker relieved herself of the backpack from her back—it was filled with her valuables.
“Now take off your shoes, too,” said the voice.
The seeker had by now learned not to question
the guiding voice. With bare feet, she felt the roundness of the wood bridge
beneath her
feet. She thought the bridge must have
been made up of several trees bound together.
Then she felt solid ground again and, with a loud cheer, she cried out “I have crossed the bridge!”
At that very moment, the fog dispersed
and the sun began shining in the blue sky. She saw standing in front of
her a Guide with a full
round face and deep obsidian eyes. With
great gratitude she fell to the ground and saluted him. He laughed and
pointed back behind her.
As she turned around, she was shocked.
The wide bridge that an elephant could pass was nothing more than a single
log bridge that
tapered to a thin branch at this end of
the cliff. The extra weight of her backpack would have broken the branch.
The seeker gave the Guide, the empowerer,
an embrace and also laughed. She pointed behind him. Slightly bewildered,
the Guide turned
around and saw a deep pit right behind
him. By stopping to help the seeker cross the bridge, he had been saved
by his own compassion.
They both laughed out loud and their laughter
echoed in the mountains.
“Come on, lets go to my cottage and I will
make you some yak butter tea.” The Sherpa called back, as he started to
walk toward his
cottage.
The seeker walked with bare feet. For the
first time in her life, she felt the sunshine melting the ice in her heart
and the soft moist earth
soaking her weariness away. She looked
forward to tasting the thick warmth of the yak butter tea.
By Sat Chuen Hon