CONCENTRATION
 
 
     The most beautiful woman in the world was watching him.
     Dhalsim endeavored to remain in a continual state of
meditation, and so keep his mind clear of all distractions.  It
was not easy.  The eyes of the most beautiful woman in the world
were clear, dark, and piercing, and they never left him once.
     It was better if he did not think of her, though.  She was a
Brahmin, member of the highest-ranking caste of those who
followed the Hindu syncretistic body of religious, philosophical,
and social beliefs native to India.  His life's path had led him
to the teachings of Gautama Sakyamnui, also known as the Buddha
or the Enlightened One.  Yes, it would be best if he did not so
much as turn around to meet the gaze of the most beautiful woman
in the world.  Doing so would bring no good, neither to him nor
to her.
     Dhalsim Sadjijutah the Younger, he was called; he had
studied the Art of Kabaddi for thirteen long years under the
mystical guidance of Sadjijutah the Elder, and when the ancient
teacher had at last said that Dhalsim had learned all that he
could from him, Dhalsim did Sadjijutah the Elder the honor of
taking his name.  Then, with a sad farewell to his loremaster of
so many years, he left, seeking more and greater challenges.
Through continued striving, he reached to achieve a higher state
of consciousness and harmony with the world about him.
     Sadjijutah the Elder had warned him of the many trials that
he would face, the day he had mentioned his desire to step forth
and seek his own way.  "The road that you choose to walk is long,
burdensome, and not without dangers," he had said.  "As a
follower of the Enlightened One, you are a rarity in your own
land.  For the Fates ordained in cosmic jest that the birthplace
of Gautama's doctrine of salvation would one day become all but
empty of his faithful."
     "I am aware of as much, teacher."  Dhalsim knew only too
well that Buddhism, which had originated within India, had
virtually died out in its native land.  "At the same time, it is
true that Gautama's teachings have taken root and flowered in
other nations.  The People's Republic of China, the archipelago
nation of Japan..."
     "So!  Do you suspect that your intended path might take you
beyond the borders of this land?"
     "It is not impossible."
     "Then your journey may well be doubly hard.  You will sleep
upon dirt, walk through storm, and fast through necessity, rather
than choice.  And yet, there is strength to be gained from
enduring hardship, and even more importantly, there is much to be
learned.  I wish you well, my former student.  Go, then, and be
careful."
     And so he had left, seeking to learn more of Kabaddi, and
Yoga, and the nature of Life itself.  (Despite his faith in the
way of Gautama, Dhalsim did not cease to study as much as he
could of the Hindu practice of Yoga.  It was not his nature to
turn aside from anything oriented toward achieving spiritual
tranquility).  And, just as the elder Sadjijutah had foretold,
his road was not easy.  He did indeed sleep upon dirt, walk
through storm, and fast by necessity rather than choice.
     But Sadjijutah the Elder had never warned him that one day
he might be before the most beautiful woman in the world.
     How was it that she had come to be here?  She was the only
woman present as Dhalsim stood before the three-person tribunal.
They scrutinized him, and yet try as they did, they could not
penetrate past his wall of calm.  Then the most beautiful woman
in the world blinked, and the wall's foundations shifted ever so
slightly.
     "So," said the chief judge at last, "you are the roving
practitioner of Kabaddi who names himself after Sadjijutah the
Elder.  We have heard about you.  Have you truly come here for
the Test?"  The judge's voice was hard and neutral, measuring and
precise.  He, too, was a Brahmin, as were the assistants seated
on his left and on his right.
     "I have," answered Dhalsim, speaking the region's dialect
with very little accentuation.  "I know that my humble petition
cannot be refused."
     "So you say.  But do you know that you may only attempt the
Test once in your natural lifetime?  Should you fail, you may
never return to seek the Artifact from us.  Many, many
revolutions of the Great Wheel have come and gone since last the
Artifact was worn by man.  We have turned away seekers before.
Brahmin, Moslem, foreign, it never mattered to us; they came,
failed the Test, and were sent away.  Nor are you the first pupil
of Sadjijutah the Elder to insist upon the Test.
     "I know as much.  I have come, regardless."
     The Artifact that these three held in trust (just as their
fathers and grandfathers had held before them) was an ancient
relic of another age.  It was said to be a forgotten trinket from
when Creatures with power over Life and Death themselves stalked
the earth.  It was a golden hoop that could be hung around the
neck... a hoop ornamented with the skulls of three wise men who
had wanted their wisdom, to outlast their brief lives.  Legend
held that the three men had petitioned a Creature to give them
netherworldly control over their own bodies.
     *That cannot be done,* the Creature said.  *The most I may
do is ensure that those who are worthy are granted your request,
after your own deaths have come to pass.*
     And so, the Creature had waited, with all the patience of a
being that holds power over Life and Death.  One by one, the
three wise men died, as all mortals must.  And one by one, the
Creature added their skulls to the Artifact, even as it cremated
their bodies and wished their souls peace.
     The Artifact, once crafted, was given to the careful
guardianship of three more wise men.  Since that time, only those
few mortals who passed the Test were ever allowed to wear it, and
tap its otherworldly essence.  None had done so for generations.
     But Dhalsim was prepared now.  His balance was fine, his
will strong... if only the most beautiful woman in the world were
not looking at him.  On the other hand, he could not truly wish
for her to look away.
     He had come here to match his prowess against the Test, and
learn from his success or failure.  He did not truly desire the
Artifact.  One of the most fundamental teachings of Gautama the
Buddha was to avoid desire, for desire tended to prompt misery.
No man was ever miserable because he did not have a meal or an
Artifact, a book or a wife.  Man was only miserable because he
desired such things, even after they were denied him.
     Therefore, Dhalsim remained free from the desire to possess
the Artifact, and the desire to meet the eyes of the most
beautiful woman in the world.  He was unable, though, to leave
behind a lingering wish to impress her by passing the Test.
     "My daughter, Anjula," and here the chief judge indicated
none other than the most beautiful woman in the world, "has seen
seekers like you come and go.  What makes you think that you will
be any different?"
     Dhalsim knew better than to fall into the verbal trap.  "I
ask that you please permit me to take the Test."
     "Fine," snapped the chief judge, a certain amount of keen
displeasure creeping into his voice.  "Do it, then, if you can!"
Dhalsim rested upon the ground, legs crossed in the
transcendental manner of the lotus.  Now, truly, did the Test
begin.
     The thing that he had to accomplish was at once both
simplicity itself and a universal impossibility.  He had but to
remove all concept of self from his mind.  Such a trivial act, if
it can be performed, has lasting repercussions on those few who
have attained it.  To purge oneself of all thoughts of "self" is
a tremendous task indeed.  Humans will say that they have
achieved it, but such statements are usually misspoken.  The self
always demands to be at the center of things, and all too often
even the most holy of men can at best but relegate it to a
little-used corner of their consciousness.  No human had
succeeded in fully doing so before the guardians of the Artifact
for over a century.
     Dhalsim relaxed his body and mind.  He had a slight
advantage, as opposed to those who had come before him, in that
little enough of his life truly hinged upon the concept of self.
All that he owned was worn upon his thin body:  a pair of burlap,
drawstring shorts, four thin, binding bronze strips carefully
fastened about the lower extension of each limb, two large,
hooplike gray bracelets (one about each wrist), and a smaller
pair of similar earrings.  He was not in the habit of wearing any
more than this and his dusky brown skin, although he often chose
to decorate his shaved head with thick strokes of red paint.
     Dhalsim used his own breathing as a focus, and gradually
emptied his mind.  His eyes closed and his thoughts flowed like
running water beneath the moonlight.  Still, a corner of self
remained.
     He placed his hands together, fingers pointed upwards, in
anjalimudra (the traditional hand position of the Offering).  He
sought to fill his being with naught save devotion and humility
to the Enlightened One.  Still, a persistent corner of self
remained.
     He cast aside all his hopes, all his fears, all his study,
all his toil, all his suffering.  He forgot his name and his
purpose, his background and the members of his extended family
that he had not seen in fifteen years.  Still_, a solitary,
immutable corner of self remained.
     He forgot who he was, and all that he had learned.  He was a
child, a newborn infant, without experience or memory of the
world that surrounded him.
     And yet, there was the immovable fraction of self, a sliver
that had been there since before the day he was born.  With a
heavy heart, he was forced to acknowledge the powerful motivation
that selfishness has, has always had, and always will have upon
the human psyche.
     "You have failed the Test," accused the Brahmin unsubtly,
"just as I knew you would.  Just as my daughter Anjula
knew you would."
     Dhalsim opened his eyes--and unintentionally locked his gaze
with that of the most beautiful woman in the world.
Avalokitesvara, the Lord who Looks Down (in mercy), but she was
breathtaking... or has that already been mentioned?
     The lustrous red sari wrapped about her graceful form,
embroidered as it was with gold thread tracing willowy avian
patterns, seemed humble and unworthy to be worn by such as she.
So, too, were her shining pearl necklace and interlinked,
glittering earrings.  Her silky jet tresses were bound into a
half-tail by a simple, ornamental ring that did her no more
justice than the exquisite, shining metallic strips that dangled
from her wrists in paradoxical mirror of his own attire.
     She was delicate, soft, smooth, and radiantly warm.  She did
not look upon him with scorn, or haughtiness, or even pity, as
one might guess.  Her face held only kindness, and of course,
beauty.  Dhalsim looked back into those two, deep, encompassing
eyes... and lost himself completely.
     And then, he was at last at the crossroads of the forces
that slumber beneath mankind's touch.  This was the Energy, call
it what one will--the life-force, the Power, the chi--that
Sadjijutah the Elder had told him so much of, on so many
different occasions.  He was able to harness the Energy, as he
knew how to do, had known how to do for years and years.  The
only thing that had prevented him from doing so before, or that
prevented any human being who knew how to use the Energy, for
that matter, had been that single slice of nigh-undisplaceable
self.
     Faced with the inner manifestation of the Energy, even the
all-powerful Four Laws, as derived by one of the most intelligent
men who ever lived, had no choice but to defer.  For you see,
both scientist and mystic alike will tell you that the Four Laws
are not truth.  They are not reality.  They are approximations to
the Truth; lenses that help one to see Reality more clearly than
might otherwise be expected.  If he could, another wise man with
a sad face and stiff, curling grey hair, would tell you of the
day he repealed the Four Laws before a judge and jury of fellow
men, replacing them with his own, even less imprecise theories.
And then one day, those hallowed conversions between matter and
energy too would necessarily be modified, in the never-ending
search for better and better approximations to the Truth.
     Does God indeed play dice with the Universe?  If the stories
beneath the legend of the Artifact were based upon truth, then
not even the Creature had been willing to answer a similar
question.
     Be that as it may, Dhalsim used the Energy at the breadth of
his consciousness to resist the continual pull of the massive
earth below him.  Without moving from the position of the lotus,
he floated away from the dusty floor.  He left it behind,
levitating his entire body fully in midair before the stunned and
gaping Brahmin.  He had achieved where scores of men before him
had failed.  He had passed the Test, and earned the right to wear
the Artifact as his own.
     And yet, he had not done so entirely by his own power.  Only
with the aid and the benevolence of the most beautiful woman in
the world had he succeeded in tapping his true, inner potential.
He might have reflected upon the irony of such a thing, if he
were not still hopelessly lost within her eyes.

Bethany Cox

Please send constructive to coxb@tethys.mathcs.carleton.edu, as a
friend is posting this for me upon my explicit request.