N'aarat and the Tree of Life

Chapter 5: The Fruits of Dó

My mind was clouded and at that time I couldn't understand what was happening to me. I couldn't remember the taste of peöks, only the sound of our laughter as we'd chase them, and they seemed to enjoy their role in the great scheme of life, as we swam and swam, in the days when none of us knew what true hunger felt like. We were kids, I recalled, and Öe would cast its sparkling rays all around us through the water, as we rode the currents, imagining they were mighty dragons and we were knights from the deep, swimming in confrontation. Some were so powerful that eventually we could hold on no longer and we tumbled backwards until we landed in an adult's arms or on some colourful reef. Inside my shabby room, which I was sharing with numerous other women who worked in the quarry, I'd try to resurrect feelings of joy by recalling the sound of our laughter, which would, until dawn, carry me back home.

The leader of the Rayanars, Maáh, was an excellent swimmer. She could swim around the magnetic poles and even touch them; such was the strength which dwelled inside of her that she seemingly effortlessly dove into the mightiest of currents. Her crown was natural: three crystal spikes that She had made grow on Maáh's head on the evening of her coronation. These crystals were very enigmatic to me—most Rayanars would have concurred—as their role was to connect Maáh to all above and all beneath. Yet I had never satisfied my curiosity as whether we were oblivious of what the third crystal assisted her in doing, since I had assumed that one connected her to what was above and the second connected her to what was underneath. But what did I know at that time? I simply told myself that maybe all three combined fulfilled that task and that the above and the underneath represented something far greater than what an uninitiated dweller could have anticipated. And so it was, as I later discovered.

Lying on the hard bed, I smiled to another memory from my childhood. We used to impersonate Queen Maáh when we were kids; we'd swim all the way to Ángisär, a cave far in the north, covered by snow. The black shore of the sea was soft and lively with little creatures washed away by the waves.

Among our favourite impersonation games was the coronation ceremony, which was difficult to recreate due to shortage of actors and thus we would resort to invisible ones to help us deliver our play before God and Goddess. And I guess They rejoiced in our innocent games, as the winds were calm and the sea brought treasures before our feet, which we would immediately accept and incorporate into our improvised script. Sometimes, the sea herself would become a character, and we would tell her how to move her waves, or we imagined deciphering her answers in the sounds made by birds or the patterns left by her white foam. Occasionally, we would quarrel because we held different interpretations for the wind or because one of us would suddenly introduce all others to a strange, unknown character, who did not fit in the coronation scene. Then the one who had conceived such a new guest would defend the case:

'Our guest has come from a land so far that history has not yet returned from it. Our visitor comes bearing the gift of the new, of the strange, of the diverse.'

And since we knew not how was appropriate to welcome such an imaginary visitor, or what accommodation was appropriate, we'd kindly suggest the newcomer to sit at the back, while we finished organizing the ceremony, so we could begin.

As I grew older, I started cherishing solitary walks on that black beach and I'd visualise children playing Kings and Queens, the sea tumbling over with her noisy waves, the birds flying over their bare heads. Some of the birds overflying the fifth realm were enormous, yet they never attacked us. On the contrary, at times they dove into the sea to alleviate their pains and we would immediately rise in a circle, touching and blessing them. Afterwards, they would fly upwards, covering the sky. No sense of owing governed our ways, since we knew they had been sent by Her, aware that it was our duty to support Creation and prolong its existence.