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" Ah, but the skill and no-mind necessary to the practicioner is the same that I seek. The essence has not passed on."He bowed a bit. "The old katas are different from those practiced now. I saw in your devotions things that I have not seen since I was a youth." I have no idea what changed my katas to these forms yet they seem -right-. They flow more smoothly than those taught to me as a green youth."He nodded. "Perhaps this is how the original katas were discovered. It is of no matter." He sai'ed to me. "Thank you for your time." He rose and turned away, retreating back into the depths of the temple. I couldn't let this old holy man slowly fade into obscurity. I had a pocket full of krugerrands. I dumped twenty-two of them into the begging bowl near the doorway, leaving me four. I'd be that he said "HOLY SHIT!" when he found them, too! But then, being a Buddhist monk, he might have only smiled and nodded.I didn't want to leave the city without sampling what drove the tourists to. I tie one end securely around my left wrist and kneel with my back against the tree trunk, wiggling my wide-spread knees to each side until the bark caresses my spine through my thin summer dress. I don the blindfold Master had provided, and wrap my arms around the oak, tying my own wrists behind me as my Master had taught me.I am alone and see only blackness. I hear everything: birds in the trees, the rustle of the wind through the leaves, the silence in between. I can do nothing. Nothing but wait. And I will wait. I wait for my Master, for only he knows what I truly need: Rescue.I don't ask myself how I came to need this. I once did, but in my inability to understand myself, I stopped. Why it is does not matter to me. It simply is, and I must have it.Master did not put me here. I did. My fears must be real in order to be faced. Is this real? It's as close as I can get, and I am thankful for it.Somewhere in the blackness I see, there are memory clips, moments out of time, my moments.
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