The Centaur
Strangely, the rumors of antiquity can be confirmed: The Schools of Mystery, once mocked by bookish academicians, have always existed from ancient Greece to Rome to India to Egypt and the mighty Sphinx and the pyramids that stand as a testament to esoteric knowledge, and then to the ancient Mayans and the Aztecs; and at last, to the Native Americans who gave those who were developed and ready the chance to develop further. They became Initiates. Seekers. They left those who were following a very broad swath, in short, that was slowly traversing up a very large mountain and for those who were ready, the teacher came. These Initiates were given various techniques, and told to look within to expand their very minds so that when they opened their eyes they knew and could see that the universe within matched point for exact point the universe without with its billions of galaxies, strange spatial anomalies and countless worlds; no more, no less.
Only a staunch materialist, who was going the way of The Dodo Bird, who knew nothing of the Library of Alexandria would argue otherwise. But for all Initiates, there were many trials and tribulations that tested both the body and the wit, and even more than that as they had to put on their red tunic, sword and shield and intrepidly go into a Colosseum and fight and succeed, or be killed.
Indubitably, it was called The Razor’s Edge.
Max remembered the long journey he had been on. It had been more arduous than he had ever imagined. He had been seen as possibly gifted, and then chosen to study the long lost art of alchemy. But his mind was now sad and fatigued, and growing sentimental as he remembered often his childhood friends. There was Robert, a boyhood friend, for instance, whom he had played games and chess with testing each other’s wits. With time, they had grown into saplings and then into rugged trees. Of course, Robert had to prove himself in a rite of passage where he had been left in a vast desert to fend for himself, and had gone stark raving mad and died. It had been a test: Seek and Ye Shall Find. But many of us don’t know how very unforgiving life itself can be for those who want to penetrate nature to its innermost sanctuary.
Memories came back like bold-faced headlines.
Then there had been Paul and Danny who had been like untamed stallions that broke all the rules, but there was something charming about them. They ran West and then into the East, and believed in mind expansion and thought that they could attain satori as they assiduously studied, at first, chemistry and then alchemy itself about how to turn base metals into gold. Some of their experiments allowed them to see glimpses of alternate realties and to understand that most of what we experience is Maya. They laughed and enjoyed themselves, at first. But as time went by they grew desperate; for it was that they could see mirages of Kublai Khan, but they could never stay there for long. One of them was killed in an experiment gone awry dealing with the precious element mercury while the other, I believe, it was Danny, inflicted such self damage that he had to be hospitalized for the remainder of his life.
Naturally, these tests were under the heading Ancient Alchemy and The Cauldron – a topic Max had read about quite voraciously but so far had eschewed knowing he lacked the proper guidance.
He had busied himself with various techniques that would bring about transcendence – the idea was to focus on sound and then go to the subtlest sound before the mind would fall away from the ephemeral world and go back to the world of Atman or the Self. Naturally, it could be done with sight, too, and any of the other senses.
In short, he was dipping a white clothe in yellow die and then putting it out into the Sun until the color did not fade. Then there had been James Dekoff whom he had befriended when he was a young teenager and who had possessed the naive thinking that he had been one of the Knights of the Roundtable. James himself had excelled in many ways graduating magna cum laude from Columbia University and was known as the Russian bear since he was large and clumsy, had learned the Russian language on his own, along with all of Dostoevsky and Pushkin’s works, and had a surly phlegmatic personality at times. He had also excelled at his lessons that had been taught in our particular school with much success experiencing sat-chit?ananda, the true Self: for unbeknownst to most, Kali Yuga had obscured men’s minds so that the frailty of the ego was oft confused for the soul when, in truth, the former was simply the Shell and the latter was the Snail. And the Snail itself was moving quietly along its own path.
Of course, James represented an advancement in terms of homo sapiens, and he had hope of even a rare apprenticeship, and thus, when I had met him, he carried himself with a certain air of dignity befitting one of his position.
But Pride Goeth before a Fall.
James practiced deep meditation and studied the ancient texts, but he became slothful. We often had esoteric conversations: “All we need to do is practice deep meditation – and our samskaras will change on their own.” “But what if they don’t?” “Enlightenment is just re-cognizing the Self or the Atman and then going through a de-stressing process.” “It just sounds too simplistic. I mean, millions have gone before us and they have not been enlightened.” “But we are different. We have the highest path.” “I don’t believe that.” “Then what do you believe?” “That we have the highest path for us.” “Then what is your notion of enlightenment?” “I leave it opened ended – much like a mystery of sorts.”
Life went on – much like God’s mill grinding us, slowly.
James continued on his way. Thinking he could melt icebergs. That his rollicking, smoke-blowing train was on the right track and all he had to do was keep going along the same way. But he neglected his trade for every member of a School of Mystery was compelled to disguise himself as an everyday man or woman who bore no distinguishing mark except to blend in and live an abstemious life. Outwardly, he might have been a carpenter or an accountant or an elementary school teacher whilst his true vocation lay in perfecting himself and in advancing in as many lessons for Soul Growth as was possible in a single incarnation. In truth, he thought he was more advanced than he was—we all did— and he began experimenting with Magical Commands, namely, mantras and siddhis, thinking like a Chinese master, like Lao Tzu, he could fly on the back of a crane into the higher Heavens.
But then it came time to test his copious knowledge and his own crystallized notion of Self as all Initiates had to do – and it failed him badly.
He entered The Labyrinth and met The Centaur.
Through the Olde City, in the tunnels, James walked trepidly and with a now daunted courage as he realized he was on his own and that all his erudite posturing would not aide him in the least. Its musky odor he could smell as he held his sword and his shield. He could hear The Beast as it lingered about. It moved on its hoofs. When it appeared it had a fierce hog’s head that was capable of showing a wide range of emotion, and it possessed although verily scarred the shoulders, chest and rippled torso of a man that blended into a stallion’s body. The Centaur said: “Not much. But I guess it’ll do.” Then it charged him, but his Protective Ring of Fire only partially protected him while his Magical Commands failed at the most opportune time. He was repeatedly gored and called out in agony. His cries were heard throughout several streets, and he met a horrible death. The Elder Brothers who had seen so much through so many yugas gave little notice.
Why?
For birth and death to them was simply the rain falling in a stream and then merging into a river making its way to the open sea before evaporating and falling again to make its arduous journey. Max, however, never forgot his friends whom he had started with. How could he? When someone in your very own tribe dies, it wounds you as you feel cheated somehow – and you swear revenge so that when you see Death himself, his macabre face, at last, you will wound him. They had all been on a sacred quest for the Holy Grail. They had enjoyed many adventures and hoary and ribald tales, and that whatever befell them, whether tragedy or riches, they knew it was more than worth it.
Day and night, Max continued with his training trying to learn from others’ mistakes, if possible, as more comrades fell. He remembered the old maxim: Many are Called. Few are Chosen. If he wanted to attain the higher initiations that he had been told of he would need to succeed at all of these tasks and then descend into the Olde City and the Labyrinth and fight the Centaur himself in a deadly combat so he approached his training more like a religious rite, a sacrament, if you will, with much rigor and humility.
Finally, Janus approached him. She was nearly, ten years older, but a beautiful woman who had not aged and who was part of The Ancient Order with long black hair, slender shoulders, and graceful eyes and was held in high esteem since she was both clairvoyant and clairaudient. Many of these women were from the eastern province of Gnosis far from where Max had ever traveled, and often, they were Oracles and High Priestesses containing much knowledge and power, and as such, it was important for a fighter like himself to have the support and backing of this woman.
“I will show you that there is only one force,” Janus said as she eyed him after having done a reading. “You will see how The Body is a step-down Transformer and how the one becomes two, and then three. You can use this energy to open the main meridians and the different energy points. If you become very good at it, you can pack the Force into your fasciae, organs and bones even.”
“Will this make me invincible?” Max asked as he gazed at his sword
“No,” she laughed. “It is only a good beginning.”
“You don’t think I have much a chance against the Centaur, do you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“Because no one does. They think I will be another sacrificial lamb and that our losses will continue.”
“Put your mind in the shape of Spirit –and you can do anything.” “How?”
“I will show you. But you worry too much and focus too much on the outer.” “Well,” Max said, “you might have this proclivity if you had an enemy bearing down you wanting to severe your head from your entire body.”
“But what is the outer?”
“The outer?”
“Is it not Maya?”
“Of course, it is.”
“Then focus on the truth and your thinking will become much more powerful.”
Soon after, Max had many fights in the arena where he trained slowly compiling an impressive record. He had hand-to-hand combat training often tying up with his opponent in a Judo stance as Max would close his eyes and remember to see his opponent as a living triangle from his navel to his two knees – all he had to was to knock out one base of support and he would fall. It was a mathematical certainty. Inevitably, they would attempt to throw each other more like brutes. Sometimes, they would exchange palm-heel strikes or front-elbows before a shrug would come setting them up for one of his patented roundhouse kicks. Or he would move in for a Japanese whizzer. Whether it was this kind of fighting or sword fighting with Baptiste, Max focused on rooting himself much like an oak tree with gnarly roots that went deep down into the ground. But not only that, he began to see his movements more as an extension of nature, too, and that when he struck a blow he could hit his opponent with Earth Chi, too. This is what all the ancient fighters had learned and mastered. At first it didn’t seem to work – and then his opponents began to feel it as he cracked their ribs or even knocked some unconscious. He was progressing, and it would come in handy when he eventually faced the Centaur.
Again, Janus came.
“I will show you The Pearl. You can condense Chi within three cauldrons in the human body and thereby create a shiny Pearl. Essentially, you will be able to advance much more quickly vivifying the physical body and even wiring it to the etheric body. As a warrior, you will become very strong.” “How do I begin?” “You begin by drawing an eight-sided Pakua.” “Where?” “In your Lower Tan Tien, Middle and Upper Tan Tien.” “The Pakua is on every side of your body and rotates clockwise. It brings in the Chi from your body as there are stove pipes sending it to the middle of the cauldron where it condenses.” “How do I make it?” “Just imagine it, and it will become so.” “I will.” “Strengthen your Thought Force and it will become your Reality.” “I’ll practice it every day.” “And remember: If you have one Pearl, you are a poor man. But if you have many Pearls, you are a rich man and can do many things in your life.” “Like what?” “You will be able to create a Chi ball and cleanse the environment, or even hit your opponent with it, weakening him.” “That might come in handy in the Labyrinth.” “Lastly, do everything with your Yi Mind.”
With that, she disappeared like the morning mist. Rather quickly, another calendar year passed by, and Max began packing Chi into his vital organs and even into his skeletal structure to revitalize himself. He felt better. More agile and nimble. But if an opponent hit him, more rooted like a large hill. Finally, Max understood the ancient fighters that had wandered the countryside and who emphasized self-mastery and who understood Karate, Jiu Jitsu and Kung Fu more as spiritual disciplines instead of merely as self-defense techniques. It was a way of life and it was bearing fruition after a long winter and spring. Now when he stared into the lengthwise mirror, he saw his Original Face, among other things, as he stared at the many frivolous lifetimes where he had lived more like the Prodigal Son with a wide range of emotions, the incessant thinking, the various outcomes of good and bad, and everything in between in many trials and tribulations, bewitched, at times, by Fate itself.
Now this next perilous step.
The knock on his heavy oak door jarred him. It was Janus again – telling him that tomorrow he would go to the Olde City and fight the Centaur. Her voice was steely and cold. Was it because she was upset? Because of him? The fight tomorrow? Frankly, it was too late to care. He needed his rest for tomorrow was a life or death battle.
She greeted him in the morning, “Namaste.” “Namaste,” he replied. “I made this necklace for you out of red coral.” “Thank you,” Max replied. “It’s been so long since someone has given me a gift.” “It will help you to remember that your foe is not so much outside of you, but inside of you, and that you need to delve deeper than ever before and Conquer by Love to ultimately reign supreme.” “I’ll try to remember, Janus, but like all flesh and blood mortals – I’ll most likely need to remember it a thousand times, more.”
She kissed him on the forehead.
With that, Max left for he was older now, and his own man as he went down Market Street in a pensive mood, and into an ordinary stone mason building that was hundreds of years old. By a particular order, it was thoroughly protected and it descended by a secret passageway into the Olde City. Contrary to common belief, it was far from empty or even silent as the cobblestone streets were lit by torches and he could see people who looked more Roman in nature, somehow preserved by history itself, moving about carrying on business as though nothing had changed millennium after millennium.
For this auspicious day, Max wore a red tunic, brown sandals, a Galea or helmet and armor for his limbs, the simpler, the better; it was an ancient tradition of challenge and response, of fight or retreat, that had gone on for thousands of years and it would not be broken by any man, woman or child; for Man was walking up a winding staircase from the very nadir of this world to the higher echelons; and if he proved worthy, he gained entry, and if not, then his mortal skeleton, flesh, and blood were cast and reposited into the general waters of oblivion while his soul rose higher for respite before beginning the arduous journey, once more, for self-mastery and defeat of one’s enemies.
Max pulled his sword from its sheath, and since Mind was the Builder, he created a Ring of Fire for his own protection. He began to chant a spell to quiet himself and to even infuse goodness in his own actions. He knew that the Centaur would come soon as they were light and shadow, good and evil, and in many ways, matter and anti-matter, and when one moved in close proximity, the other knew.
After half an hour, Max could hear the Centaur coming and prepared to see the Beast’s face as it had been both jarring for James and many others, producing even a feared vertigo for some, but he wanted to minimize his own fear and repulsion. He had to. A large silhouette appeared. The Centaur then emerged as it had a demon-like face and the horns of a ram, and it snarled at him as already it could sense his fear, like a malodorous odor. But Max controlled and steadied himself, remembered his training, as the Centaur reared on its hind legs and began charging at full speed.
Quickly, he knelt and shot arrows with the precision of a marksman, while preparing his cudgel to break the Centaur’s right hind leg with one blow.
But the Centaur was a marksman, too! Arrows came his way tipped in poison as the beast shouted at him, “Traitor! Friend of Nothing!”
An arrow hit him in the chest and almost knocked him over, but luckily it hit his armor.
The Centaur with its stinking breath was upon him now.
The Centaur, half-beast, half-man, hit him with his mace in his right shoulder knocking him down and drawing blood as the Centaur galloped past and then Max stood up and assessed the damage that was done.
The Centaur stood nearly thirty yards away. It would be a short battle if the tide wasn’t turned as Max pushed his arms together as though holding a great ball of fire near his stomach – and then sent the Ball of Fire hurtling towards the Centaur as it hit him and made him wobble. Another massive ball of fiery Chi was sent, but this time the Centaur deflected it with his shield.
“You made us! Now you come to destroy us?!”
Once more, the Centaur reared up on his dark brown hind legs and charged, at full speed.
` Max aimed for the underbelly and hit his mark as blood came forth.
The Centaur lurched to his left and galloped past as another arrow, sent with precision, was deflected by the Centaur’s shield. Strangely, both opponents were nearly thirty yards apart, once again.
“You have no honor! Man! What are you? A beast that has destroyed the world and now you want to kill the Centaurs, too, except for Chiron!”
“You have killed many of us,” Max said keeping his calm. “We have been trained to keep you in the Lower Worlds,” the Centaur replied.
“Why?”
“Because you are a danger to all of Creation! Or didn’t your Janus tell you that?!” the Centaur said as he laughed like a demon himself. “Every debased thought of greed, violence, and selfishness that Man has ever thought has come here, HERE, to create this underworld that you now try to free yourself from.”
“You’re lying.”
“No, it is you who lie to yourself. Oh, those who are short sighted cannot see that Man is the Devil himself conjuring a lot of phantasmagorical shapes of suffering and deprivation.”
“You have no right to kill us!”
“I have every right!”
With that, the Centaur charged again at full gallop down the Olde City Street. A storm of deadly arrows came as Max knelt with his shield for protection. The Centaur used his battle axe and barely missed Max’s head. Adeptly, Max then pivoted and jumped on the back of the Centaur himself as he placed a strong choke hold on him and desperately tried to bring him to the ground.
He rode on the Centaur’s back for twenty yards or so. It felt strange – almost familiar.
The Centaur cursed him with a grimoire spell as Max felt intense pain in his hands and arms as though they were burning on fire and uncontrollably itching making him mad.
“Strength of an elephant!” Max cried out to give himself supernatural powers according to the ancient texts. The Centaur staggered and then wheeled about – before falling hard onto the cobblestone street. He was gasping for air. A brute no more as Max pulled out his dagger and thrusted it several times into the Centaur mortally wounding him.
Other Centaurs came, nearly, a dozen altogether, although they would not interfere since all bouts were of an individual nature, and they would honor the outcome whether they were pained by it or not.
“I have no quarrel with any of you,” Max yelled as his jagged knife dripped with blood. “I am only seeking safe passage through the Olde City. I’m traveling back to the town of my birth.”
Max put his hand onto the back of the Centaur, and he knew it was him. There was no other choice, really. He began, at long last, sobbing.
