After walking for many hours along an intricate series of paths
and grassy trails, the two travellers came upon a lusty green
valley. On one side of the valley, the snow-capped Himalayas
offered their protection, like weather-beaten soldiers guarding
the place where their generals rested . On the other, a thick forest
of pine tree s sprouted, a perfectly natural tribute to this
enchanting fantasyland.
The sage looked at Julian and smiled gently, "Welcome to the
Nirvana of Sivana."
The two then descended along another less-travelled way and
into the thick forest which formed the floor of the valley. The smell
of pine and sandalwood wafted through the cool, crisp mountain
air. Julian, now barefoot to ease his aching feet, felt the damp moss
under his toes. He was surprised to see richly colored orchids and
a host of other lovely flowers dancing among the trees, as if
rejoicing in the beauty and splendor of this tiny slice of Heaven.
In the distance, Julian could hear gentle voices, soft and
soothing to the ear. He continued to follow the sage without
making a sound. After walking for about fifteen more minutes, the
two men reached a clearing. Before him was a sight that even the
worldly wise and rarely surprised Julian Mantle could never have
imagined—a small village made solely out of what appeared to be
roses. At the center of the village was a tiny temple, the kind
Julian had seen on his trips to Thailand and Nepal, but this temple
was made of red, white and pink flowers, held together with long
strands of multi-colored string and twigs. The little huts which
dotted the remaining space appeared to be the austere homes of
the sages. These were also made of roses . Julian was speechless.
As for the monks who inhabited the village, those he could see
looked like Julian's travelling companion, who now revealed that
his name was Yogi Raman. He explained that he was the eldest
sage of Sivana and the leader of this group. The citizens of this
dreamlike colony looked astonishingly youthful and moved with
poise and purpose. None of them spoke, choosing instead to
respect the tranquility of this place by performing their tasks in
silence.
The men, who appeared to number only about ten, wore the
same red-robed uniform as Yogi Raman and smiled serenely at
Julian as he entered their village. Each of them looked calm,
healthy and deeply contented. It was as if the tensions which
plague so many of us in our modern world had sensed that they
were not welcome at this summit of serenity and moved on to
more inviting prospects. Though it had been many years since
there had been a new face amongst them, these men were
controlled in their reception, offering a simple bow as their
greeting to this visitor who had travelled so far to find them .
The women were equally impressive. In their flowing pink silk
saris and with white lotuses adorning their jet black hair, they
moved busily through the village with exceptional agility.
However, this was not the frantic busyness that pervades the lives
of people in our society. Instead, theirs was of the easy, graceful
kind. With Zen-like focus, some worked inside the temple,
preparing for what appeared to be a festival. Others carried
firewood and richly embroidered tapestries . All were engaged in
productive activity. All appeared to be happy.
Ultimately, the faces of the Sages of Sivana revealed the power
of their way of life. Even though they were clearly mature adults,
each one of them radiated a child-like quality, their eyes twinkling
with the vitality of youth. None of them had wrinkles. None of
them had gray hair. None of them looked old.
Julian, who could scarcely believe what he was experiencing,
was offered a feast of fresh fruits and exotic vegetables, a diet that
he would later learn was one of the keys to the treasure trove of
ideal health enjoyed by the sages. After the meal, Yogi Raman
escorted Julian to his living quarters : a flower-filled hut containing
a small bed with an empty journal pad on it. This would be his
home for the foreseeable future.
Though Julian had never seen anything like this magical world
of Sivana, he somehow felt that this had been a homecoming of
sorts, a return to a paradise that he had known long ago. Somehow
this village of roses was not so foreign to him. His intuition told him
that he belonged here, if only for a short period. This would be the
place where he would rekindle the fire for living that he had known
before the legal profession stole his soul, a sanctuary where his
broken spirit would slowly start to heal. And so began Julian's life
among the Sages of Sivana, a life of simplicity, serenity and
harmony. The best was soon to come.
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