Post by dharma on Sept 7, 2006 19:15:36 GMT -5
Dharma had spent most of the day and into the evening stripping, slicing, and notching the stone-hard wood near the side of the main entrance. Stacking them neatly to one side, he had placed a bare foot on the sand and cleared the chips and splinters of wood, melting them into sand as well. With a deep breath and a prayer of gratitude, he went back inside.
The people living on the island had been on his mind as he worked the wood. Like the trees, they were strong and hard, each with their own way of standing as individuals within the same grove. That was a strength, but could also be a weakness.
For wood to become a temple without the use of nails or glue, each piece must be molded to work with another and the assembly as a whole. It is only then, without wound or stricture, that simple trees can house a soul.
At the monastery in Shalu, he often discussed this mentality with others. It was not only a philosophy necessary to building a cohesive group; it was a philosophy necessary to building a cohesive life. Be neither stone nor water; only be.
And so perhaps he could remove the mud and algae that clouded the waters of their minds; perhaps he could clear the moss from their stone bodies. Perhaps.
Stepping into the building, he listened for Angie. She was more conspicuous than she realized; nervous and unsure, her self-absorbed nature sacrificed the giving one. The temple of her soul was weak, and so her soul had no strength. It was the same in its way to Pyro- his soul was very strong, and so his temple could not house it. Both would benefit from sweat.
"Nightingale." He spoke as he saw her in the kitchen. His black eyes focused on her with a stillness that reminded one of stones in a pool of water; darker for their depth.
Humming to herself, Angie opened the oven to a wave of delicious scents. She was marinading a bunch of chicken in there, in a sauce that her uncle had taught her years back - very simple, but lovely to taste. She'd even kept a small batch of the sauce aside for Dharma, since it was unlikely he'd want to eat something that chicken had been soaking in for hours.
The rice was cooking away on the stove - a batch that was almost too big for the pot, but Angie was sure that none of it would be left behind. It didn't seem to matter how much she cooked, someone would eat it, and the Brotherhood was growing. She was pleased that it was growing - the more people there were that wanted to fight, the less likely it was that she'd have to. She'd still been practicing her self defense, though.
"Hi Dharma." She flashed the tall man a smile as he spoke her name, though she'd been a little startled - she hadn't heard him come in. "How's the building coming along?" He'd been working out there for days with seemingly infinite patience. She herself couldn't help but wonder why they didn't just get Juggernaut to run through holding a machete, that'd get the trees down quickly enough.
"The building is going very well. Thank you." He smelled the air, and frowned a little, then picked up a few grains of rice and shifted them to a tangerine. Sitting on a stood, he regarded her carefully.
"You are busy. When would you have time to speak with me, outside?"
Shaking her head, Angie smiled. "This stuff will cook itself over time." Leaning over to turn the temperatures down, she wiped her hands together as if to dust them off.
"I was cooking for you, I kept some sauce seperate, but you don't have to eat it. Just thought you might be sick of fruit." He always seemed to provide for himself, and it made Angie feel a little guilty.
He frowned curiously. "It is food." It didn't seem to occur to him that anyone wold have a preference.
Finishing the tangerine quickly, he dropped the rinds on the counter- hitting the metal with a tinkling sound, they had been returned to tiny grains of rice.
"You are a healer. Does this mean you do not wish to fight?"
The question was a little surprising, but then Dharma was a bit like that in general. Her conversations with Read jumped around sometimes, but the boy never really understood the pathways her brain had taken to get from that girl at school to the latest issue of Superman.
"Well, I don't think it is because I'm a healer that I don't want to fight. I want to be able to defend myself, it's important that I can be useful when I am needed, but I don't enjoy fighting like some." Aurora enjoyed fighting. It made her sad sometimes to think about it, about enjoying killing and fighting and hurting other people.
Dharma nodded. This was good, it was the way of the buddha and meant she might be more receptive to what he was going to suggest. Opening the door for her, light spilled in and Dharma's long black hair caught the wind.
"And what if you were able to defend yourself, and your allies, by disarming your enemies rather than injuring them?"
"Oh, that would be fantastic. Juggernaut has been showing me some basic stuff for if I get grabbed - in Baltimore, I..." It was still a little embarrassing to talk about. "One of the X-Men grabbed me, I couldn't get out of his grip. But I don't want to hurt people if I can avoid it." Perhaps that was because she was a healer, but Angie didn't think that it was just that.
Folding his hands behind him, he walked them to a clear area, and swept his hand outward, turning all the straggling grasses and fallen leaves to match the sand beneath it.
Turning towards her, he bowed his head respectfully. "You must trust me." One foot stepped back, and he held up a hand. "I want you to come at me, as if you are going to strike me. You will not hurt me- and I will not hurt you. Can you do this."
He looks like he's from a ninja movie.
Well, for all you know he is a ninja.
She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, probably not the best attire. At least she wasn't in a skirt, though. With a shrug, Angie said, "Sure."
Wow, this feels awkward.
She held small fists up as if she was in a boxing match and advance at him clumsily.
Angie wasn't much of a fighter, and it was obvious. She'd never had to fight until she'd joined the Brotherhood, and she still didn't really know how.
Dharma took one step towards her, and held out a hand for her to stop. "Keep your hands up."
His eyes never left hers, not needing focus to see her entire form clearly. "You stepped forward with this foot. I place my foot here," he set his bare foot down in the sand just to the inside of her ankle, "And stop your momentum with my knee." With an odd little bend of his knee that looked much like an east indian dance maneuver, his knee tapped hers.
"Now with my hand," his palm cross between them and nestled itself against her armpit. His other hand grabbed the wrist at the end of the same arm. "I use your motion to guide you in a different direction. Do you see your other fist?" He nodded over his arm to it. "A very fast person might be able to strike me in the ribs, but when I lift on your arm," Dharma shifted just a little and the arm he was holding felt as if it would break in two. "You will not be capable of continuing the motion with both fists." She could feel how, had she been coming at him hard and fast, he would have tossed her over onto her back. He just as quickly released the tension and the pain went away.
Standing back, he looked at her. He hadn't critiqued her methods at all, only demonstrated how he would have countered them. "Do you understand?"
Nodding and shaking her arm a little, Angie frowned.
"This isn't the kind of thing I can learn in an afternoon." She was thinking of what Juggernaut had shown her. She'd been practicing since, yeah, but he'd shown her the basics quickly enough.
Thinking that perhaps long sleeves would be a good thing - and probably gloves - if everything was going to involve touching, Angie frowned.
"So how do I start?" Angie wasn't opposed to learning things slowly, if that was how it needed to be done.
She thought that maybe there was a line from Karate Kid that could be said, but she couldn't bring it to mind.
"First, you learn kata. It is like a dance. Remember, how you watched me on the beach? That is what is done." He moved to stand beside her in one fluid motion.
"You know of life's energy, as a healer. It is what you manipulate. Find it in your center." He held his palm above his stomach. "Can you feel it there?"
Angie put her hand over her stomach to mirror him, frowning a little.
This is stupid.
Concentrate.
This is stupid...
Her eyes wandered over the ocean for a while as Angie tried to find her life's energy. As far as she'd always known, it resided in her skin. If it was centred in a particular place - like her stomach - it would made healing far more awkward. Possibly more interesting. She tried to push the thought away but her cheeks had already warmed.
"I wouldn't say I manipulate it, really." Her lack of control, even with the recent niggling feeling that it hadn't always been the same, made Angie want to flop onto the ground and lie there apathetically for days.
"I'm sorry Dharma, but I'm not really sure what you're talking about. I've never done anything like this before." She'd never meditated, never even done yoga. She'd seen the movies and knew that you were supposed to be able to break boards with your head when you'd centred yourself by putting your hands over your stomach, but the motion had never really made sense to her.
Dharma actually smiled a little, nodding. She did not try to act as if she understood when she did not- this was good. He liked her more each moment they spent together.
"It is easiest if at first, you imagine it. Then you will begin to feel it when it surrounds you." He turned his eyes forward. Holding his hand over his stomach, he stepped forward and seemed to pull outward, and pivoted a little, sweeping his arms in one direction. Pivoting again almost 180 degrees, he draw his arms over his shoulder and pushed out and away from him, now facing Angie.
"This is not magic. It is the energy exchanged between all things, living or non-living. When you boil water, you are releasing this energy. When you break a stone against another stone, you release this energy. When you run, again, the same energy. It is there, it is why your heart beats. It is there, you only have to see it."
"Maybe you will only learn the kata, for now." Returning to his place, he held his hand in the same place. "Move your arm out, like this..."
Over the next two hours, Dharma taught her the first ten of 23 positions. Again and again they stepped through it, Dharma naming each of them softly in chinese, sometimes in english. "Wilted Bamboo. One Wing Dragon. Silverfish." After a while, she noticed the rhythm, a quiet pentameter beneath every pivot, every raised arm, every bend of the knee...
Angie wasn't a dancer. She'd taken ballet for a few months as a kid before realising that she didn't like it, and even though she'd been ok at it she'd stopped. She'd never actually danced at school dances, except once with Read at her semi-formal, but she'd been able to wear long gloves then without raising suspicion. He'd been a good date, had even gotten her a rose.
She was enjoying this, though, and while her movement were shaky and unsure at first she was soon able to stop thinking about how stupid she must look and just move along with him.
I feel like one of those people on the tea ads. She thought they did different movements, but it was a similar sort of graceful dance.
The thought of tea made her think of food, and she realised that her rice was probably a big gluggy mess by now. Unless someone had thought to pay attention to it. She couldn't be sure.
Angie's mind wasn't disciplined. She wasn't a monk by any means, and she was even less of a fighter. But it was a start, and she felt good about just trying. The idea of helping without hurting was incredibly appealing to her.
Walking back in with her, he nodded, satisfied. "Yes you did very well. You should practice each morning, it will focus your mind. When you feel ready I will teach you the remaining movements."
Stopping by the front door, he opened it for her. Bowing his head, he looked her in the eyes. "I must get back to work."
The people living on the island had been on his mind as he worked the wood. Like the trees, they were strong and hard, each with their own way of standing as individuals within the same grove. That was a strength, but could also be a weakness.
For wood to become a temple without the use of nails or glue, each piece must be molded to work with another and the assembly as a whole. It is only then, without wound or stricture, that simple trees can house a soul.
At the monastery in Shalu, he often discussed this mentality with others. It was not only a philosophy necessary to building a cohesive group; it was a philosophy necessary to building a cohesive life. Be neither stone nor water; only be.
And so perhaps he could remove the mud and algae that clouded the waters of their minds; perhaps he could clear the moss from their stone bodies. Perhaps.
Stepping into the building, he listened for Angie. She was more conspicuous than she realized; nervous and unsure, her self-absorbed nature sacrificed the giving one. The temple of her soul was weak, and so her soul had no strength. It was the same in its way to Pyro- his soul was very strong, and so his temple could not house it. Both would benefit from sweat.
"Nightingale." He spoke as he saw her in the kitchen. His black eyes focused on her with a stillness that reminded one of stones in a pool of water; darker for their depth.
Humming to herself, Angie opened the oven to a wave of delicious scents. She was marinading a bunch of chicken in there, in a sauce that her uncle had taught her years back - very simple, but lovely to taste. She'd even kept a small batch of the sauce aside for Dharma, since it was unlikely he'd want to eat something that chicken had been soaking in for hours.
The rice was cooking away on the stove - a batch that was almost too big for the pot, but Angie was sure that none of it would be left behind. It didn't seem to matter how much she cooked, someone would eat it, and the Brotherhood was growing. She was pleased that it was growing - the more people there were that wanted to fight, the less likely it was that she'd have to. She'd still been practicing her self defense, though.
"Hi Dharma." She flashed the tall man a smile as he spoke her name, though she'd been a little startled - she hadn't heard him come in. "How's the building coming along?" He'd been working out there for days with seemingly infinite patience. She herself couldn't help but wonder why they didn't just get Juggernaut to run through holding a machete, that'd get the trees down quickly enough.
"The building is going very well. Thank you." He smelled the air, and frowned a little, then picked up a few grains of rice and shifted them to a tangerine. Sitting on a stood, he regarded her carefully.
"You are busy. When would you have time to speak with me, outside?"
Shaking her head, Angie smiled. "This stuff will cook itself over time." Leaning over to turn the temperatures down, she wiped her hands together as if to dust them off.
"I was cooking for you, I kept some sauce seperate, but you don't have to eat it. Just thought you might be sick of fruit." He always seemed to provide for himself, and it made Angie feel a little guilty.
He frowned curiously. "It is food." It didn't seem to occur to him that anyone wold have a preference.
Finishing the tangerine quickly, he dropped the rinds on the counter- hitting the metal with a tinkling sound, they had been returned to tiny grains of rice.
"You are a healer. Does this mean you do not wish to fight?"
The question was a little surprising, but then Dharma was a bit like that in general. Her conversations with Read jumped around sometimes, but the boy never really understood the pathways her brain had taken to get from that girl at school to the latest issue of Superman.
"Well, I don't think it is because I'm a healer that I don't want to fight. I want to be able to defend myself, it's important that I can be useful when I am needed, but I don't enjoy fighting like some." Aurora enjoyed fighting. It made her sad sometimes to think about it, about enjoying killing and fighting and hurting other people.
Dharma nodded. This was good, it was the way of the buddha and meant she might be more receptive to what he was going to suggest. Opening the door for her, light spilled in and Dharma's long black hair caught the wind.
"And what if you were able to defend yourself, and your allies, by disarming your enemies rather than injuring them?"
"Oh, that would be fantastic. Juggernaut has been showing me some basic stuff for if I get grabbed - in Baltimore, I..." It was still a little embarrassing to talk about. "One of the X-Men grabbed me, I couldn't get out of his grip. But I don't want to hurt people if I can avoid it." Perhaps that was because she was a healer, but Angie didn't think that it was just that.
Folding his hands behind him, he walked them to a clear area, and swept his hand outward, turning all the straggling grasses and fallen leaves to match the sand beneath it.
Turning towards her, he bowed his head respectfully. "You must trust me." One foot stepped back, and he held up a hand. "I want you to come at me, as if you are going to strike me. You will not hurt me- and I will not hurt you. Can you do this."
He looks like he's from a ninja movie.
Well, for all you know he is a ninja.
She was wearing jeans and a t-shirt, probably not the best attire. At least she wasn't in a skirt, though. With a shrug, Angie said, "Sure."
Wow, this feels awkward.
She held small fists up as if she was in a boxing match and advance at him clumsily.
Angie wasn't much of a fighter, and it was obvious. She'd never had to fight until she'd joined the Brotherhood, and she still didn't really know how.
Dharma took one step towards her, and held out a hand for her to stop. "Keep your hands up."
His eyes never left hers, not needing focus to see her entire form clearly. "You stepped forward with this foot. I place my foot here," he set his bare foot down in the sand just to the inside of her ankle, "And stop your momentum with my knee." With an odd little bend of his knee that looked much like an east indian dance maneuver, his knee tapped hers.
"Now with my hand," his palm cross between them and nestled itself against her armpit. His other hand grabbed the wrist at the end of the same arm. "I use your motion to guide you in a different direction. Do you see your other fist?" He nodded over his arm to it. "A very fast person might be able to strike me in the ribs, but when I lift on your arm," Dharma shifted just a little and the arm he was holding felt as if it would break in two. "You will not be capable of continuing the motion with both fists." She could feel how, had she been coming at him hard and fast, he would have tossed her over onto her back. He just as quickly released the tension and the pain went away.
Standing back, he looked at her. He hadn't critiqued her methods at all, only demonstrated how he would have countered them. "Do you understand?"
Nodding and shaking her arm a little, Angie frowned.
"This isn't the kind of thing I can learn in an afternoon." She was thinking of what Juggernaut had shown her. She'd been practicing since, yeah, but he'd shown her the basics quickly enough.
Thinking that perhaps long sleeves would be a good thing - and probably gloves - if everything was going to involve touching, Angie frowned.
"So how do I start?" Angie wasn't opposed to learning things slowly, if that was how it needed to be done.
She thought that maybe there was a line from Karate Kid that could be said, but she couldn't bring it to mind.
"First, you learn kata. It is like a dance. Remember, how you watched me on the beach? That is what is done." He moved to stand beside her in one fluid motion.
"You know of life's energy, as a healer. It is what you manipulate. Find it in your center." He held his palm above his stomach. "Can you feel it there?"
Angie put her hand over her stomach to mirror him, frowning a little.
This is stupid.
Concentrate.
This is stupid...
Her eyes wandered over the ocean for a while as Angie tried to find her life's energy. As far as she'd always known, it resided in her skin. If it was centred in a particular place - like her stomach - it would made healing far more awkward. Possibly more interesting. She tried to push the thought away but her cheeks had already warmed.
"I wouldn't say I manipulate it, really." Her lack of control, even with the recent niggling feeling that it hadn't always been the same, made Angie want to flop onto the ground and lie there apathetically for days.
"I'm sorry Dharma, but I'm not really sure what you're talking about. I've never done anything like this before." She'd never meditated, never even done yoga. She'd seen the movies and knew that you were supposed to be able to break boards with your head when you'd centred yourself by putting your hands over your stomach, but the motion had never really made sense to her.
Dharma actually smiled a little, nodding. She did not try to act as if she understood when she did not- this was good. He liked her more each moment they spent together.
"It is easiest if at first, you imagine it. Then you will begin to feel it when it surrounds you." He turned his eyes forward. Holding his hand over his stomach, he stepped forward and seemed to pull outward, and pivoted a little, sweeping his arms in one direction. Pivoting again almost 180 degrees, he draw his arms over his shoulder and pushed out and away from him, now facing Angie.
"This is not magic. It is the energy exchanged between all things, living or non-living. When you boil water, you are releasing this energy. When you break a stone against another stone, you release this energy. When you run, again, the same energy. It is there, it is why your heart beats. It is there, you only have to see it."
"Maybe you will only learn the kata, for now." Returning to his place, he held his hand in the same place. "Move your arm out, like this..."
Over the next two hours, Dharma taught her the first ten of 23 positions. Again and again they stepped through it, Dharma naming each of them softly in chinese, sometimes in english. "Wilted Bamboo. One Wing Dragon. Silverfish." After a while, she noticed the rhythm, a quiet pentameter beneath every pivot, every raised arm, every bend of the knee...
Angie wasn't a dancer. She'd taken ballet for a few months as a kid before realising that she didn't like it, and even though she'd been ok at it she'd stopped. She'd never actually danced at school dances, except once with Read at her semi-formal, but she'd been able to wear long gloves then without raising suspicion. He'd been a good date, had even gotten her a rose.
She was enjoying this, though, and while her movement were shaky and unsure at first she was soon able to stop thinking about how stupid she must look and just move along with him.
I feel like one of those people on the tea ads. She thought they did different movements, but it was a similar sort of graceful dance.
The thought of tea made her think of food, and she realised that her rice was probably a big gluggy mess by now. Unless someone had thought to pay attention to it. She couldn't be sure.
Angie's mind wasn't disciplined. She wasn't a monk by any means, and she was even less of a fighter. But it was a start, and she felt good about just trying. The idea of helping without hurting was incredibly appealing to her.
Walking back in with her, he nodded, satisfied. "Yes you did very well. You should practice each morning, it will focus your mind. When you feel ready I will teach you the remaining movements."
Stopping by the front door, he opened it for her. Bowing his head, he looked her in the eyes. "I must get back to work."