Heavenly Creatures
CHAPTER 28: Two Weeks Later

It turned out that the old man easily slaughtered me in the game. I woke up early each morning to quickly clean, if I had to, then pray, and then spend some time learning how to play better go on my smartphone. But the old man inevitably crushed me every time.

Still, I didn’t give up. I would come back home, eat, sleep, and study again. It was grueling. And, too, something mysterious began to happen to me as I spent more time with the old man. I could feel a heaviness lifting off me, a weight that I had seemed to be carrying since I’d been born—and perhaps even longer than that.

I improved in go gradually, until I felt more confident in my contests against the old man. One particularly fine day, however, the old man broke the stillness.

“Do you ever think about the concept of sin?” he asked.

I paused. What a strange question, I thought. “I can’t say I have,” I answered honestly.

“Call it what you like: karma, sin, conditioning, habits. It’s all the same. The idea of sin is a very interesting one.

“What’s important is the sense of guilt or shame it engenders in people. Much of that guilt or shame is other-imposed. In other words, it is felt because you sense that others would disapprove. But if we stripped away the outside world, sin is the feeling that there is something not quite right about you.

“Take an adulterer, for instance,” the old man went on. “He betrays the trust of a friend or lover to satisfy his desires. It is not the act that is the source of guilt, but the betrayal.”

The old man paused, and I listened carefully, still confused. When the old man gestured at the board, I realized that he had finished his speech.

“Why are you telling me this?” I asked.

The old man smiled mysteriously, and instead of answering my question, he went on again.

“There is a story about a snake and bird. One day, a bird landed in an apple tree, under which a snake was sleeping. As the bird flew off, an apple fell and hit the snake on the head, killing him. As the snake died, he spewed his poison in the air, killing the bird. Both died with vengeance in their hearts.

“The two incarnated as a wild boar and quail. One day, the wild boar came upon the quail. Recognizing him as his enemy, he killed the quail in its nest.

“The quail was then reborn as a hunter’s son. As he grew up and learned to hunt, he refused to hunt quail and had an unusual blood thirst for wild boars. One day, as he was hunting the wild boar, he came upon a monk, meditating in the forest. The monk stopped him and spoke thus.

“‘If you take vengeance on this boar, it will be reborn as a human, and he will take further vengeance on you. You can always find a cause for anger, but if you go back far enough in history, it becomes unclear who is truly at fault. Stop this now and set yourself free.’”

I listened to this story, still unsure of why he was telling me all this. I decided not to ask the old man, however, as I felt that he wanted me to figure things out for myself.

“Go home now,” the old man said. “Think about what I have said.”

I walked home, deep in thought.

* * *

That night, I had a strange dream.

“Lancelot,” a female voice called me, and I turned and smiled to see Guinevere. “I’m so glad you’ve come.”

Despite my joy at seeing her, I felt jumpy. “Where is Arthur?”

Guinevere’s smile fell. “He’s at the Round Table with Galahad. I think it will take some time.”

I relaxed before embracing Guinevere. As I did, the dream changed to show the walls of Camelot, alight in flames. Skirmishes broke out in the streets, and lightning flashed behind the black turrets of the castle.

The dream ended, and I startled awake. It was already morning.

* * *

Later in the day, I didn’t notice the birds following us or the sparkle of light on the river, as I usually did. We sat down on the wooden platform. While the old man set up the go board, I asked him, “Did I betray Arthur’s trust?”

“Ah,” the old man said. “You’ve figured it out.”

When I lapsed into silence, the old man spoke again.

“You betrayed Arthur, but you mustn’t judge yourself too harshly. Arthur forgave you, even as he pretended not to know of your betrayal. Sᴇaʀ*ᴄh the Find_Nøvel.ɴet website on Gøøglᴇ to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

“To live is to be in danger of crucifixion and of crucifying others,” the old man said, echoing my sister’s words. “She understood implicitly the idea behind the story of the snake and bird. But that doesn’t mean the betrayal didn’t hurt her.”

I felt a deep pain in my heart at the thought of the pain I had inflicted on her.

“As Lancelot, you were valiant but misguided,” the old man said. “You lost sight of the light inside, and Camelot paid the price.”

I nodded.

“But you paid heavily for your misdeeds, and you must know by now that all pain is self-imposed.”

I couldn’t speak, couldn’t breathe as the old man continued. “You must learn to forgive others, as well as forgive yourself.”

“How?” I asked.

“The path is simple, but it is as difficult or as easy as you make it,” the old man replied. “It can be done in a moment, by realizing that the past is but a dream you need to wake up from. Or it can be done in time, through karma yoga or fearless, selfless action. It can also be done through devotion. No matter which way you choose, the goal is the same.”

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