THE BIRD
Zintis Muiznieks
He was the Living God in the land of Smiltis, as his country was called. As Living God, he performed many functions, allowing himself to be adored by his people, greeting the sun each morning out on the promontory, so as to be seen by all. Daily he blessed his people, nightly he made the sacred commune, the Mystery, with a single, always different subject. Very little time he spent pondering his role in society. It was, and it was good.
He had hardly any idea of how, exactly, he had become the Living God. Granted, the progression of events was clear. On his sixth birthday, Kalvis, as he was called by parents and friends, according to custom, was taken to the Sacred Temple at the tip of the Sacred Point. Every child in Smiltis was given the opportunity to become one of the Chosen. Parents, or guardians, would present their child by bringing him, or her, to the Sacred Platform, and stepping back. Most of the time, nothing would happen, after a few minutes a deep gong would sound and the child would scamper back to safety, be taken home to resume life as a regular citizen. Occasionally, though, the slab, child on top, would slowly begin descending. At that moment most children cried, perhaps even screamed, for at such a tender age the honor being granted them was by no means clear. Parents were normally too stunned to react, for while they were – at that moment – the potential parents of a future Living God, more than likely they simply would not see their child for a long time.
The Chosen Ones ranged in age from six to thirty three. While it was unusual that anyone older than twenty would be selected as the Living God, it did happen, rarely. Mostly the role of the older Chosen Ones was to instruct the youngsters.
Once the shock wore off, the boy who had been Kalvis began his training. There were all different forms of physical exercise, many types of mental strengthening. There were lessons about all aspects of the history, culture, and society of Smiltis, for the Living God was not only the most beautiful person in the whole land, he – or she – was also the wisest, although that aspect might, or might not, have been true. Since there was only one Living God, and many Chosen Ones, those who aged out generally became teachers and yogis.
Smiltis consisted of water and land, the land forming a crescent, the points far out into the freshwater sea to the west, creating a large, tranquil bay between them. To the east were mountains, high and impenetrable. The weather was tropical, nightly rain abundant. Many of the plants in the jungle provided food, and water farms in the bay a huge harvest of a plethora of sea vegetables. Once, for a short time, some people in Smiltis had begun to eat sea animals, but soon thereafter a huge wave nearly extinguished their civilization, a clear sign that meat was not to be partaken.
In the middle of the bay, directly half way between the two crescent points was the Sacred Point, perhaps natural, perhaps somehow constructed by ancient people in a time long gone. A couple hundred feet wide, sloping upward, the way toward the temple consisted of a wide path and rows upon rows of stone benches, all with a clear view of the promontory. The thousands of seats were occupied daily, sometimes sparsely, frequently packed.
Life in Smiltis was peaceful and easy, the people tended their sea farms or gathered food in the jungle, some specialized in the construction of habitats and other buildings, all from the nearly indestructible Kala wood, vines and palm leaves. Labor and food were equitably distributed and there was plenty of time for creative endeavors, also for the adulation of the Living God.
The young man who had once been Kalvis, and since his assumption into the circle of the Chosen Ones was called Surya, was only vaguely aware of the time that had passed since that day when the only life he knew ended and he was thrust into a strange and unforgiving world. Since each of the Chosen Ones was the potential Living God, many acted as though they were already selected, when in truth, the selection process was sudden and mysterious. The current Living God would retire and the following day the new Living God woke to find him – or her – self in the Sacred Chamber. For that individual all the long training of the previous years suddenly became reality. They would perform the sacred rites, they would bless the subjects, would execute the flying dance and, as of that night, engage in Mystery with the Lucky One, a single worshipper chosen that day by the Sacred Ola Fruit.
+ + +
The Chosen Ones lived together on the far side of the temple. Unseen and unknown by the common people was a vast complex of rooms, halls, openings to the sea, and pools located far inside the Sacred Point. There they trained, learned and sometimes even loved, for as difficult as some of their companions were, most, if not all, ultimately bonded with older Chosen Ones in familial-like roles, and others for friendship and intimacy. Nothing was forbidden, yet the prevailing sense was that anyone not showing restraint was hardly likely to find themselves the Living God.
Each morning as the previous Living God, Usha, performed her Rites to the Sun, every Chosen One practiced their own. Variations were encouraged, for while each person in Smiltis did a rudimentary form of the movements, the Chosen Ones tumbled, somersaulted, leapt and twirled, for the selected had to be the most impressive in the whole land. While the Living God was being adored, the Chosen Ones studied, committing to memory all the history of the land, learning the songs. In the deep underground pools they learned the flying dance and prepared their bodies for the eventuality that they, also, might one morning have a full set of gills to complement their lungs. That was the one, main physical attribute of the Living God, she – or he – alone, could breathe anywhere.
Mystery was many aspected. It might be sexual union with either gender, perfect and so gratifying that the Lucky One would have no doubt that they had lain with a God. It might be discussion of philosophical treatise, so complex as to evoke the ideas of the ancients. It might be to cradle the head of the Lucky One as they slept and had dreams of the past, or future, or even of the land beyond the mountains. There were as many forms of Mystery as Lucky Ones, a different person nearly every day of the year. The Living God needed to perform always, flawlessly. It was whispered among the Chosen Ones, that usually when a Living God retired suddenly, it was because they had not been able to execute some Mystery.
+ + +
Surya was eighteen years old the morning he woke to find himself in the Sacred Chamber. For long moments he panicked, fear gripping him tightly. Surely some mistake had occurred, surely Usha still reigned. And yet, he knew. His body was beyond glorious, long-limbed, muscular and bronzed to perfection. His mind was sharp, his memory unparalleled, able to recall ancient events, gleaned from songs. And, to confirm what he already knew, he probed behind an ear, fingers gently caressing the ridges of his gills. He was the Living God.
Instinctively he sensed that the sun would soon rise above the mountains, casting its rays upon the promontory where he would perform the sacred Sun Rites as never yet witnessed. He would dazzle his subjects with his grace, his strength and his beauty. Golden hair and glowing body reflecting the sun, embracing the light. Word spread rapidly throughout all Smiltis of the new Living God, such as had not been seen in generations. People thronged to watch him perform, to worship him, and perhaps, just perhaps, to become the Lucky One, to spent part of one night with him, to ever after carry that best memory of their entire life.
Surya took his new responsibilities very seriously, always being completely present regardless of what he was doing. There were some surprises also. He had not known that the pool where he executed the flying dance was enhanced with Power. Quickly he learned to manipulate it, using the energy not only to fly with tremendous power out of the water, but also to leap ever higher above the pool, to perform elaborate spins and twists in the air, seemingly becoming weightless. He also took advantage of his gills, disappearing for long minutes under the water, resting in a deep grotto, upon the walls of which grew a delicious water fruit which he would eat to gain strength and stamina.
There was also an aspect of Mystery that had been mentioned, but never before experienced. The Living God had incredible healing abilities. A simple, conscious touch healed any ailment, physical, emotional or other. While the people of Smiltis generally were in perfect health, there were incidents of accident or heartbreak. Surya was fully present to each and every Lucky One.
This, by far, was his favorite duty. Most likely it was the novelty of every night, that made it so attractive. Exactly one hour after sunset he would wait in front of a particular door. It would open and there would stand one of his subjects, young or old, male or female, beautiful or homely, and he would bow a greeting, take them by the hand and lead them into the Sacred Chamber. He would listen to their request, listen to their heart. Sometimes he would take them to the bed, performing exquisite forms of lovemaking. Sometimes to the Sacred Slab for a total healing. Other times to the sitting area for hours of stimulating conversation. At midnight a gentle chime would sound, and he would lead the Lucky One back to the door, from where a Chosen One would escort them to a boat and row them back to the land.
For years the stone benches continued to overflow as the people basked in the loveliness and glory of their Living God. There was not a single subject who didn’t know of his tenderness in love, his compassion in healing, the strength of his mind, the grace of his dance. Many believed that his reign would be the longest in memory, as his beauty increased daily. Surya himself may have thought that as well.
+ + +
One evening, in the hour before sunset as he launched himself into the flying dance, as he seemingly became weightless, as he flipped and soared, Surya though “I truly am God!” At that moment, the Power failed and he fell directly onto the rocks below. One leg was shattered. He slipped into the water, nearly drowning, he no longer had gills.
That night he managed to swim to the mainland, painfully, and found a rock ledge under which to lie. For two days and two nights he slept. Not a healing sleep, or even a particularly restful sleep, but fitful as it was, on the third day he woke to find himself soiled and hungry. His leg hurt unbearably, his head throbbed, he did not want to live.
However, every so often he would drag himself to the edge of the sea, stick his head into the water and drink. Toward evening he managed to get himself entirely submersed and cleaned his body as best he could. While he was the Living God, Surya – now Kalvis again he supposed – had worn no clothing so that his whole being could be adored. Now he simply felt naked.
Later a young man was walking along the water and noticed Kalvis, came over.
“Who are you” he exclaimed, “what are you doing here?”
“I am,” started Kalvis, “I mean,” he continued, “I had an accident, I’ve broken my leg.”
The young man peered in more closely and gasped, “Your leg looks absolutely dreadful, and you are so beautiful! Only the last Living God, with whom I was able to spend one night, the best of my life, was more beautiful!”
Kalvis remembered him and felt his heart catch.
“You’ll need to go to the new Living God, perhaps you’ll be the Lucky One and get healed.”
Kalvis turned away to face the rock.
“What is it? Why are you so angry?”
Over the next month the young man, whose name was Gatis, brought clothing, food. Also some linens for Kalvis to lie upon, for he was not able to walk at all. Occasionally Gatis lay beside Kalvis, stroking his beautiful face.
During that time, although he healed physically, but never would walk without dragging the leg behind, Kalvis became more and more angry, hostile. Finally Gatis said: “I cannot stay around you, your festering is poison to me,” and he left.
Every day now Kalvis would awkwardly make his way into the jungle to gather food, the rest of the time he cursed his life. He, once the most adored of all Living Gods, now a desperate cripple, barely subsisting, alone in all the land. His demeanor became that of an ugly, ugly man.
+ + +
Smiltis was a land of birds. There was a pelican type bird who was intelligent enough to carry messages in its pouch beak out to people working the sea fields, and to others. There were large, colorful parrot like birds who would talk and could learn a multitude of human songs that they would perform for everyone’s pleasure. There were the thieving gulls, the comic limpkins. And, above all, the Sacred Birds, the great white Egrets who would soar in the sky, tumbling and dancing, just as the Living God performing her – or his – flying dance.
One of these was the tormentor of Kalvis. Daily it would circle and play, somersault and bank, high above in the azure sky. The man who used to be Surya would shout and shake his fist, “Go away! Leave me to my misery!” So it went for a long time, the man’s body healed as best it would. His arms and back became very strong, climbing trees without use of the leg. He had moved from the initial place to more of a small cave, within which he set up a basic home.
One day as he sat on the beach in front of his cave, the great white Egret started descending, with long, lazy circles coming closer and closer. The man watched jealously, grudging admiring the bird’s grace and beauty. The bird glided lower, lower and finally landed heavily, awkwardly, for one of its legs also was mangled, wouldn’t support it, the other barely managing to keep the creature from collapsing fully into the sand.
Their eyes locked, Kalvis squinting and blinking into the sun, the bird gazing impassively and openly. Finally the man looked away. This was his living totem, the carrier of his soul. The Egret and the former Living God, the moment of truth, and what could the man do, but weep.
The bird came daily, then. Sometimes soaring and circling for hours before crashing into the sand. The dichotomy of airborne gracefulness and clumsiness while on the ground. For many days Kalvis tried to ignore it, but slowly his awareness began to awaken. One morning early, as the sun rose, he fell into the sun breath. While the Rites of the Sun seemed out of the question, the rhythmic breathing was cleansing and energizing. That day he looked forward to the bird’s visit.
For a long time he had avoided even looking at his damaged leg. Fully mended now, he could move it from the hip, not the knee. However, even though the foot faced somewhat sideways, he had learned to get around fairly nimbly. As the bird watched, he began to stretch, to move, experimenting with the Sun Rite forms, adapting as necessary. As the body became more supple, he began once more to remember his mental training, strengthening the mind. And, for the first time in many months, he wondered what had become of the young man, Gatis, who had cared for him so tenderly.
Years passed, and throughout Smiltis word spread of the yogi living in a tiny cave on the beach, and of his companion, the crippled Egret. The man’s deformity had become less obvious, focused attention, along with excruciating stretches, had remolded the leg. It was said that the yogi had way about him. He didn’t speak, but would smile and warmth would radiate from his eyes. Some claimed that he had the power of a true healer. Sometimes it was even whispered that he might be a True God, Truth outside of the sacred temple. Truly, Kalvis was at least as beautiful as Surya had been, a maturity and wisdom shining from within.
Although he did nothing to encourage it, worshipers would come, and he never turned anyone away. Would sit, smile, sometimes placing his hands on a head, a limb, white Egret beside him, gaze unreadable.