The tale of Ocra the Keeper. Chapters 1, 2 and 3

Ocra lived on a high river bank, close to a forest that rose up the hill as a dense wall. Behind the hill, as far as the eye could see, more hills, higher hills were sleeping in fog. The river bed was covered in boulders, mossy at the top where crows and herons would sit and nib at it, slimy and shiny at the bottom having been embraced by the waters for so long. The swift waters were especially dangerous in spring during the high water season.

Ocra has lived here since she could remember herself, brought up by the previous Keeper, Oni. She never knew her parents or if she ever had any – Oni never spoke about such things. Ocra has been raised to take care of the Hill Region, and since Oni has passed into the subtle realm, she has been the Keeper. She knew there must be other Keepers for every hill beyond her realm, but she never met them.

Every morning she would come up to the edge of the bank, open her palms and just take in the life force flowing in the air, then she would lie in the river bed, speaking to the river. The river was named Anduna, and Ocra knew her very well – as well as you can know a river – a living being so different from and superior to us. Hills and rivers, not to speak of the Mother Bharat, live in a different time span taking little notice of the fast changes in our small lives, unaffected by them. But you can hear them speaking if you hearken to their flow of life force and tune in to their mind.

Ocra remembered how she first heard Anduna. She was 4 springs at that time. Oni was teaching her to meditate and lie in water without breathing for a long time and merge into the river’s life force. After some futile attempts Ocra was finally able to relax and clear her mind to let in the life force. First she felt amazingly peaceful and safe and lost track of time, when gradually the soft sound of a song started to flow into her mind – the song of Anduna. She didn’t understand the words, but she could feel the meaning with her heart: “Anduna is my name, and I feel my might and beauty as I’m flowing over the Mother, the sparkling magical world around me is filled with life force and is overflowing with love, I want to spread it all around me in gratitude to the Mother”.

Over the years she would ask her questions about the world and listen to her songs, as the time went the songs became clearer and their bond stronger. This was one of many duties of a Keeper– to create and maintain bonds with the powerful living beings whose presence is not perceived by people but who shape the life on Mother Bharat. So Ocra also learned how to listen to the hill, the ocean, the fire and the wind, the sun and the moon. Keepers call them Devas and accept their guidance on how to take care of their region.

Another duty of a Keeper would be to internalize and formulate the Devas’ songs in their own language. That’s why they would also become known as poets and singers. But those songs were not ordinary songs, they weren’t meant to entertain or inform. Rather with their subtle beauty they would put people in a state of meditation connecting them with the heart of the Keeper. From this heart wisdom would flow into the listeners’ hearts who then feel like it was their own. In this way Keepers would weave harmony into the world.

On a clear evening of the light half of the first autumn month Ocra was sitting near her stone house running her fingers over the strings of her small harp singing the Autumn Song. This was a very unusual song – she heard it from leaves and tree bark when she was patrolling her realm two days ago. Ocra never listened to the songs of inferior beings, but this time she felt she had to. Something was different about the seriousness of the message. As usually during a patrol she opened her palms to sense if the flow of the life force was healthy in this part of her region – she could feel the thin herby flow from the dying leaves, the transparent but strong flow from the trees, several agile flows from small animals – everything was in order.

Ocra was leaving when she noticed that the leaves were rustling rhythmically and there was a certain emotion hidden there, the emotion they wished to convey. Then, as Oni had taught her, she sat down on the ground, put her open palms on the knees and closed her eyes. First she breathed in and out at regular intervals controlling the life force movement in her own body. Thus she muted her outer senses, stopped her mind’s work and focused on the gentle rumbling humming emitted by the hill and by the soil itself. When the humming filled her she started to rock side to side in accordance with the waves of the sound. At this moment the rhythmical rustling of the dying leaves unfolded and flew into her ears, but this time she could understand what message they were eager to share.

Ocra diligently noted all the subtle feelings, emotions and images she perceived and then, without opening her eyes, she came back to her senses and used the mind to create associations with every item she received through this song. This would help the Keeper create the song of the dying leaves later.

Ocra didn’t get tired like ordinary people do, she rarely ate and slept for just a couple of hours a day. People need food and sleep to refill the life force supply in their body, but Keepers didn’t have a supply – their life force was always flowing in and out entwining with the life force of all the living beings in their region allowing them to merge into the nature, be one with it. This feature made them perfect for their role.

But there was a kind of tiredness Ocra could feel – the tiredness of spirit. It came when she would only fulfill her duties and forgot about the spirit. The spirit required feeding. Oni was particularly adamant about this practice, teaching Ocra over and over to meditate early in the morning, while everyone was still asleep, so that she could realize herself as a small spark inside her body, a spark which is an infinite part of the primordial light – the Original Living Being. Oni explained that every spark has a deep-rooted desire to express their love to this Original Being and receive reciprocation – this interaction is the fundamental practice that enabled Keepers to stay alive and maintain their qualification. And their duties, Oni used to tell, were the expression of love they can offer to the Being. It was the hardest practice for Ocra to learn, but she quickly realized she couldn’t perform her duties if she didn’t feed the spirit.

So after creating associations for the song of the dying leaves she felt a little tired in spirit. She understood why – the unusual source of the song and the emotional message she received made her a little restless. She needed answers. So Ocra climbed the topmost boulder in the vicinity, lay out the deer skin she always kept on her for such occasions and sat upright aligning the flow of her life force. She took the beads hanging from her neck into the right hand and started to chant the secret mantra Oni taught her.

Immediately she felt relieved and little by little as if connected to her long lost true home. Ocra loved her life and the work she was doing in her region, she felt satisfied. But chanting this mantra brought a completely different level of satisfaction. The chanting made her delve deep into herself, to the places within her she had never known existed before she tried it for the first time. With years of practice Ocra also found herself connected to other living beings who lived beyond her region, in fact beyond mother Bharat herself, she only communicated with them during the chanting of the secret mantra through the feeling of connection and support they gave her – she saw vague images and felt their life force, but that was it. She knew herself to be a part of a big picture, of a family she left long ago. This always made her feel fearless because she knew she lived in a world created and maintained by those who care for her.

But this time Ocra also had a task. So she addressed the Original Being – but there was no answer. This was the first experience for Ocra when she felt someone’s presence, but couldn’t communicate. Then she tested the other living beings she felt support from during chanting. One of them whom she saw as a man in white clothes with a long white beard answered her question with short, but concise messages that just appeared in her mind like gusts of fresh wind. Satisfied, but puzzled, Ocra opened her eyes and felt pregnant with knowledge and wisdom of the elders – that is what she called them in her heart.

Slowly she got up and for some time just stood there taking in everything she learnt. Then she collected the skin and put it in her side bag. The bag reminded her of Oni again: the mentor embroidered this bag for her student when she came of age, that is turned 14. Before the Keeper’s initiation Oni sent her to gather the herbs that only adult Keepers were allowed to gather and gave her this bag. The embroidery showed a deer family grazing in the forest made with threads of different colours and some gem stones Oni received as donation from the village people.

Emerging from her thought Ocra noticed that it was darkening and headed home. She was safe because she knew what she had to do. Having returned home, she entered her stone house, a small one-room hut with a fireplace and a stove along the back wall, two beds, a couple of chests and a table with chairs. The beds weren’t ordinary human ones, it was imperative for them to be purely natural built without any human craft so that they helped Keepers to be connected to their region at all times. They looked more like big nests woven from soft branches, covered in fresh leaves and grass. It was autumn now, so the leaves and grass turned yellow and red. By the end of winter they would almost entirely wear out, so they were sometimes substituted with soft evergreen foliage until the beds were buried in the woods in spring and created again in spring.

The table was cluttered with books and notebooks –one of the Keepers’ duties was to carefully note down all the songs they hear and chronicle all the events they experience or even just hear of. No one Ocra knew needed books, people would come and hear her songs and remember them forever passing them down to their descendants, but she knew from Devas there would come time when people would only be able to learn from books.

It was dark inside, and as the last light of the day was leaving the hut, it made everything look blue and soft as if blurred. Ocra fumbled in the dark to make fire, it wasn’t very cold yet, the autumn was still settling in, but the presence of fire always gave her a sense of approval from the Devas. Then lit a candle, sat at the table, took out an inkbottle, a writing stick and opened her notebook. For a moment she paused taking a breath before diving into inspired writing. She loved the process, it was always so immersive and liberating – she felt like a vessel filled with infinite wisdom and beauty seeking to pour it on paper.

Ocra was writing for an hour or so, pausing to find a better word or metaphor for what she felt and perceived during her meditation. Then she extinguished both the candle and the fire and went to bed. Keepers didn’t actually sleep at night. Their body and mind needed rest just for a couple of hours so they plunged in a deep meditative state. They used the time to breathe in synch with mother Bharat and to tune into the flow of life force of the whole planet.

The next morning was the first day of autumn. Ocra knew the song of the dying leaves had to be sung today. After the morning rituals she washed her clothing in the Anduna river and hanged it outside the house, changed into a formal Keepers’ dress which was kept in a chest beside her bed, then reached behind her bed for a harp case, took it out and went outside to play in the sun. Ocra closed her eyes and let her innermost feelings lead her fingers to accompany the poem that she wrote yesterday. At first she lightly touched several strings one by one to set the mood of a meditative atmosphere. Then she swiftly ran her fingers over them pulling chords and sequences with regular intervals as if every chord needed to take its breath: breathing out, fading, pausing, breathing in, building up again… Then the gaps began to shorten gradually and the chords weaved into a continuous fabric of music with a melody emerging on top of it. This is when Ocra’s voice entered following the pattern of the melody, flowing beneath it:

The life is leaving us and death is closing in,

The juice of life cut off - fragile and dry or skin.

We heard so many living fade and die before,

Being full of fear while passing to the other shore,

But we don’t fret regretting neither life nor death

For just external shells are cast with our last breath.

For shapes and forms will die and are already thus

But only we live on and joy lives on in us.

Chapter 2

Ocra had to stop before she finished her song, before she came to the most important part of the message. A woman came from the village to tell alarming news – a fire started in the eastern part of the forest, a big fire. When Ocra was little she and Oni dealt with a couple of forest fires, but those were only 20 or 30 patches big. Oni warned her then that a fire is the Mother’s rage and means something is not going according to the plan of the Devas. This one, the woman said, judging by the amount of smoke and the number of animals fleeing westwards was at least 150 patches big. Ocra immediately understood that the song was connected with the fire. Something was wrong. Changing back into her usual dress she made up her mind to hold the evening hearing circle nonetheless for it was of a vital importance for the people to hear the song. But now other matters needed attending.

The village people already started dealing with the fire by bringing in water from Anduna, sand and earth to subdue it and praying to the river and the hill for protection. They also sent a messenger to the nearest villages across Anduna and over the hill for extra help. Together they stood a chance of taming that wild fire before it destroyed the whole hillside. Ocra felt very compassionate towards all the living beings’ sufferings and empathized with their fear and devastation trying to help in her own ways. But on the inside she understood that birth and death are integral parts of life, that there are times when things have to be demolished as well as times when things have to be created. There are times when living beings have to fight for their life and prosperity and times when they have to surrender to the greater force and accept their fate. Oni has always told that we should do everything in our power as if all depends on us, but understand that ultimately we depend on the Original Being who at all times has a plan for us.

The Keeper never directly takes part in the lives of her region’s inhabitants – that’s a rule, so Ocra’s task was to meditate, listen to the hill and the clouds and pass on the message about the plan for today’s occurrence to people: whether the hill agrees to the help of clouds and whether the clouds are willing to help. In the eastern part of the forest there was a cave that led to the roots of the hill, though to access the entrance you had to clime midway up the hill. This is where Ocra came to hear its songs. The cave end was very close to the hill’s heart and Ocra could see its heart’s beating like concentric circles before her eyes when she closed them. She called it “heart”, but actually it was vibration emanating from every living entity – the hill’s one was too low and subtle for humans to hear or feel. Once in a while there appeared unusually perceptive ones that could almost sense something, but in general humans are not meant to hear songs, this life form has a different purpose. All this lore was passed down the generations upon generations of Keepers since the beginning of time.

So Ocra climbed into the cave and followed its turns to the heart of the hill. With every step the heart beating grew stronger. She could feel the alarming mood and hurried to hear the rest. Having taken out her deer skin and sat down, the Keeper controlled her emotions and breath and plunged inside her consciousness. She focused solely on the song allowing it to fill her mind completely. She felt like a vessel of sound and images. With her inner eye she saw the form and colour of the sound, of the whole song. It looked like signs, letters from some unknown alphabet, vibrating the song, containing the whole story in itself. Later Ocra would start recording these letters from her numerous meditations and compiling the “original” writing system, as she called it. She passed it on to people to preserve and live by along with the records of all the songs she had ever heard. That was the beginning of the “Keeper’s scriptures”.

In her heart she heard those signs as the sounds of an unfamiliar language, chanting, chiming of the fate of the Hill region and lands far beyond it. She knew what it was about because the sounds turned into images and knowledge that settled into her mind directly without words. Ocra just knew what was being told to her and needs to be done. The scope of knowledge was much bigger now, and it was clear now how it was connected to the song of the dying leaves. She wasn’t surprised though, it felt as though she had always known it. She slowly returned closer to the surface of her consciousness, now her task was to carefully select the proper words for this knowledge. The Keeper slowly climbed out of the mountain and proceeded towards her house, walking and singing on her way:

The Time consumes all in a single blink

Its all-devouring mouth will crush our lives…

When she entered her house, she cast a look on the saffron cloth lying on the chest lid. It made her think of Oni dressed in it at the formal singing, with sun darting through tree leaves, flying across the cloth like little fiery birds. It always seemed mysterious and cozy at the same time, as if the elders from the subtle worlds were approving and stroking her gently and lovingly. Those were her happy childhood memories. It felt strange at first to wear it after Oni had passed on, like she was just filling in for Oni, it took some time to get used to being the Keeper. Although Ocra didn’t lament for Oni like humans do, she felt sad she didn’t have her association anymore. But she was sure somebody else did, since Oni had certainly moved up the hierarchy and was helping other living beings in the subtle worlds.

Now was the time to concentrate on the task, so Ocra wrapped the cloth around herself, put the neckbeads on, took the harp and went outside. The Keeper swiftly walked across the lawn, sat under a colossal oak tree growing right in the middle of the lawn, crossed her legs and put the harp in her lap. Then she closed her eyes, started breathing and slowly synchronising the breath with the surrounding living beings and the flow of the life force. In - the life force enters, out - it exits having come through her body. Thus Ocra established herself as a vessel filled with the wisdom destined to be sung today, carrying it safely and ready to pour it onto the listeners.

She had already informed the villagers earlier of the formal singing tonight, so the front lawn was already filling up. Ocra was still sitting with her eyes closed. She would look everyone in the eye later, greeting them and asking about the fire, offering comfort and advice, after the ritual singing has finished. But now was the moment to share wisdom, heart to heart. As the tradition required the Keeper and the audience started with a simultaneous chanting of a one-syllable mantra that cleared the mind and reconnected the soul to the source of life, turning listeners into hearers, giving them the ability to perceive the wisdom: deep breath, from the depth of the abdomen comes the sound a, the flow of air concentrates and turns into o vibrating in the chest, which condenses to become oo in the throat and concludes with a long m ringing in the forehead. They all chanted it several times until a crispy clean atmosphere covered them where they could hear the echo of the mantra in their minds. They were ready.

Letting herself open the dam, the words and music somewhere on the outside of her consciousness, Ocra felt the powerful message pouring through her:

The life is leaving us and death is closing in,

The juice of life cut off - fragile and dry our skin.

We heard so many living fade and die before,

Being full of fear while passing to the other shore,

But we don’t fret regretting neither life nor death

For just external shells are cast with our last breath.

For shapes and forms will die and are already thus,

But only we live on and joy lives on in us.

And we will come again and take a mortal dress

And sing of beauty and eternity profess,

As we have done for countless eons in the past -

The light this ageless knowledge will forever cast.

Still there will come a time for light to fade away

And living beings across the world in darkness stay.

And we already feel its whisper in the air

So in our hearts we’re overcome with deep despair.

Ocra finished the Autumn Song and a dead, but pregnant silence hovered over the lawn. The people started stirring, whispering, exchanging concerned looks. The times were changing and they called for different actions - everyone understood that. But they knew that their Keeper also got some answer from the Hill, so they were still hopeful and prepared to listen to the second song. Ocra opened her eyes and cast a meaningful glance at the villagers. There was a depth in her eyes that both fascinated and frightened them. She wanted to pacify them and share her confidence in the ultimate benefit of all happenings. Closing her eyes again, plunging into the depths of her consciousness she unveiled the song of the Hill:

The Time consumes all in a single blink

Its all-devouring mouth will crush our lives.

It’s by design of life: when on the brink

We see the real value, spirit thrives.

The age of fade is sinking on our lands,

It will establish in a hundred years.

Preventing it must be in Keepers’ hands -

To save the knowledge ere it disappears.

Disasters, mere heralds of the age,

Will then unfold into a sea of plight:

There’ll be no more respect for priest or sage,

No value of the knowledge or the light,

The true and false will be inverted, virtue - mocked,

The blind will lead the blind to an abyss,

Profess themselves as Gods, the truth concoct

And only trust their beastly pleasures’ bliss.

All Keepers must unite and cooperate,

Each one contributing their strength and skill,

Devising new ways to get through the gate

Of people’s darkness, and the souls instill

With knowledge, hope and joy and lead the way.

Since memory will wane and sense decline

Books must be written and as pillars stay. (for many a millenia)

The Keepers must preserve the path divine

And roam over the world, both far and wide -

In every corner will the elder’s songs be sung,

Enlightening the passage to the other side

Where all are ever blissful, wise and young.

The villagers, who were gasping and silently crying in the middle of the song, were now murmuring and conversing, hopeful and inspired. The pride they felt for their Keeper had empowered them as well. Ocra had to venture to some distant lands with an important purpose, and as unwilling as they were to be left without a Keeper, still the colossal picture of the future painted with the words of the Hill filled them with safety and calmness.

Then their leader, a sturdy man named Foll, rose and voiced the question many of them had: “Respected Ocra the Keeper, we know that you also asked for advice from the other spirits (people didn’t know about the elders or the Original being, Oni instructed against it since it was beyond their capacity and didn’t benefit them, but they knew there was some other spirits Ocra sometimes sought advice from). We would like to know what they answered.” All villagers started nodding their heads in agreement, even young children, although they all knew they were not supposed to ask that question, they hoped that this time it was different.

So it was. Ocra felt it in her heart that sharing this knowledge would be safe and to the benefit of all listeners. She took a deep breath, concentrated on conveying the message exactly as it was given to her and started speaking. Everyone could feel the power of these words. Keepers accumulate unparalleled power through contact with Devas and elders, keeping silent, meditating, serving people which they only spent while speaking. When Ocra opened her mouth to speak or sing, the surrounding world faded and one felt as if in a tunnel whose effulgent end was she, the only clear object at the moment, and the words entered one’s heart and left no room for doubt as if deep down one had always known it.

Ocra uttered: “In a hundred years the age of darkness and illusion will start, it will continue for hundreds of millenia. Keepers can slow it down by spreading knowledge through writing books and building special places for honouring Devas, otherwise people will forget everything. Despite our effort, the age of darkness and illusion will continue fifteen millenia later. It will then be followed by another golden age, and so this cycle will continue forever. I must go and find other Keepers, form an alliance and help them fulfill this task. You must follow the instructions from the Devas’ songs and live in peace until I return. Respected Foll, please arrange that the books are looked after.”

Having said that, Ocra rose from her seat under the tree with a serene expression, five heads taller than everyone else, pressed her palms together in front of her chest and bowed to all of them. They mirrored her as they watched her put the dress into the bag with the deer skin and leave the Hill region.

Chapter 3

Bare feet stepped softly upon moss, sharp stones and boulders emerging from under the ground covered in autumn leaves. The lungs slowly breathed the cool and sweet morning air, in and out. It was a pleasant walk deeper and deeper into the woods after a short night-time meditation at the top of the Hill. Ocra didn’t often climb the very top, so when she reached it at sunset yesterday, she turned around to catch the last glimpse of her region that she grew so accustomed to: a gentle slope flattening towards the foot of the hill ending in a steep ravine through which Anduna carried her waters from the sunrise to the sunset, turning to the sun direction further down the stream. She didn’t feel much attachment to the place, as she did to her duty to the people. Down the slope lay the desolate area where the big fire happened. Its silence and stillness felt ominous, although deep down Ocra knew her region was safe until her return, so with a light heart she looked away and settled for the night.

The nights were growing colder - Ocra saw vapour coming out of her mouth and frost on the yellowing grass when she broke her meditation this morning. These were the only means to feel the change in the air since Keepers didn’t feel cold or hot, nor did they wound their skin from walking barefoot all year round and making their way through thorns and thickets. The meditations Oni taught her, to keep the inner flame strong and to detach oneself from the body, also helped.

As Ocra descended the other side of the Hill in the ice direction she entered the neighbouring region she had never stepped foot into before. The valley between the Hill and the distant mountains was covered with morning fog, but she could still see a magnificent and vast lake in the middle and several villages with smoking chimneys around it. The more she approached the villages, the more she felt a definite presence of another Keeper. Anduna didn’t sing here, and the wind whispered another melody. All was well here, the heralds of the coming age hadn’t come here yet, but Ocra could hear the troubled rustling of the autumn leaves and feel unrest in birds and beasts’ life flow.

When she came within an arrow’s shot to the nearest village she expected to meet the Keeper any minute now. The first Keeper in her life besides Oni. Ocra was surprised to find herself a little nervous and excited - the emotions she barely ever felt. She walked along the shore of the lake for a while until she saw it going slightly upward with a crown of a nest on top. Ocra could only see the edge, but it was clear that it belonged to a giant bird. Ascending the slope, she soon realised that a Keeper lay there in meditation, relaxed, palms open to the sky, eyes half-closed, a peaceful expression on his face.

It was a he. Ocra didn’t seem to have expected that, although she realized they must have existed, she had never thought about meeting them, so she had never imagined or asked Oni how other Keepes look. Now that she thought about it, they had never discussed other Keepers at all. There was no need and it had nothing to do with Ocra’s duties. Curiosity wasn’t in her nature since she was happy and satisfied with her inner and outer life.

It was definitely a he because she had seen human men, and he looked like one. Only 5 heads higher, slimmer and longer limbs and fingers, more delicate face features and - very much like herself. His long brown hair was matted and twisted up into a knot, two plain linen pieces of cloth were wrapped around his thighs and chest with a loose end on one of his shoulders. She could see halves of his grey irises from under the lids, and the whole body seemed to emanate a soft glow into the morning air.

As soon as she came up to him he opened his eyes and got up. His look was steady, powerful and innocent at the same time, scanning, seeing right through her.

“I’ve been waiting for you,” she heard within her mind. These were not exactly words, but knowledge, coming from within. Sending messages directly into the mind is how Keepers communicated detailed feelings, atmosphere, energy and images to each other, and more importantly information of the higher realms impossible to be related in human language. They used human speech only to convey the important messages to their realm’s inhabitants.

“I know,” thought Ocra, “I felt your presence since I started descending the hill, your life force is pervading everything here.” Ocra realized her own life force was slowly spilling into the surrounding area and all her unanswered questions palpably hung in the air.

“You have never seen a male Keeper,” stated he, “My teacher was a female Keeper, I can tell you what I know. People call me Keelan.” He folded his hands in front of the chest and bowed slightly as a sign of respect. Ocra noticed how this gesture enhanced the glow around him. The same happened to Oni, but Ocra never thought about her own body and how it looked from the outside, she must have emanated the same glow. She reciprocated accordingly.

Enjoying the unfamiliar feeling of excitement she received a series of images, feelings and sensations along with knowledge wrapped in a certain atmosphere. The knowledge she had never thought she would need. But now that she had it, it felt most relevant to her.

Keepers, unlike humans, don’t require physical intercourse to bear children. Instead they combine their mental strength, life force and the heart’s desire for particular traits in a child. Yet the bodies of Keepers still have gender differences which is the embodiment of the two primeval forces maintaining the whole creation.

Ocra sat down on a boulder that issued a cool and faint, but welcoming life force. She needed time to take in all the new experience and to sort and structure the information. So that is how she had been welcomed into this body - someone had planned for it to happen exactly like that.

Once the male and female Keepers agree on the future child - traits of character, tendencies and inclinations, life’s mission - they sit down to meditate, addressing all the Devas, Elders and the Original Being, expressing their gratitude, acknowledging the original source of the life force and asking for their assistance in this deed.

Then the male Keeper directs his mind’s intention at the female’s life force, merging together they create a vessel which can welcome a soul from another realm of existence. Keepers mainly come from the upper realms where they have already advanced in knowledge and wisdom.

Once a soul enters, the vessel solidifies and becomes a baby in the lap of the female Keeper. Keepers grow comparatively fast and in a couple of months the baby turns into a toddler who then is taken by one of the parents to their region to be brought up and inherit the Keeper’s duties when the parent passes on.

Ocra felt, as it usually happens when true knowledge is revealed - relieved and inspired, as if she had always known it, and that Keelan had just confirmed her own views on the subject. Had Oni planned for that meeting and knowledge revelation? Or had Ocra been led by the Original Being or Elders from the inside? She felt she would eventually receive answers to all her questions. But now she had a more pressing matter.

Ocra sent the emotion of gratitude to Keelan followed by an inquiry about the big change. Keelan also sat down on another boulder opposite her, crossing his legs and putting one on the lap of the other. He responded with a feeling of worry and relayed his recent interaction with the lake whose name was Ond and the Hill, the same Hill, but from another side of it. Ocra issued some curiosity as to the process of listening Keelan followed. The images she received showed him pressing his palms and ear to a certain flat stone at the foot of the Hill, etched into the vertical stone wall. The feeling of being fully immersed into the vibrations and giving your whole being to the listening overwhelmed her. Then came absolute calmness as she observed him floating on the surface of Ond.

The Keeper had heard a very similar song instructing him to wait for Ocra and go to the ice direction. The next step was now clear, and they would figure out the one after that when the time would come to reveal it. That is how life goes on earth, and Keepers fully accepted that. They spent some time exchanging other necessary information so that their knowledge and experience would be almost equal. The lake region‘s villagers have already heard the songs and prepared for the temporary absence of their Keeper, so Keelan would only need to take his official saffron robe and deer skin from his nest before they set off to the ice.

The path lay across the lake region villages and then between two more hills. Keelan’s things were packed into a bag held by two strings around the shoulders. Both Keepers shared mild excitement and joy at the prospect of getting to know new Devas who all had unique personalities and atmosphere around them. They absorbed the life force of all the creatures as they went and learnt more and more about the worrisome times ahead. The village between the hills was flooded so its inhabitants had to leave for another place. Beyond the hills lay a valley which also suffered from a forest fire. The balance was gradually swaying towards the inauspiciousness.

The Keepers of those regions and beyond were joining the party heading to the ice direction. The weather was getting colder fast, rains were taken over by light snow. Ocra felt snowflakes’ gentle touch on her face and marvelled at how opposite experiences coexist and bring joy simultaneously - her feet enjoyed hard stones’ reliable support and cold earth beneath them. They walked on silently, sending worries and joys or experiences into the space from time to time, soaking in each other’s vibration, feeling they were becoming a unity. They feasted on the ample life force of the surroundings and spent nights on soft moss listening to the humming of Mother Bharat. She wasn’t happy with the upcoming change too, but the circle of life must be completed only to start again.

Gradually their party grew to around fifty Keepers. The association of so many of her own kin was quite fruitful for Ocra: she learned the ways of other regions, ways of communicating with Devas, of passing down the knowledge to people. Not all Keepers composed songs; the form depended on the individuality of a Keeper. Some told parables, others drew pictures or showed the rituals of gratitude to Devas, healing properties of herbs and minerals, weaving or woodwork techniques. These all came to Keepers through Devas, and Devas, in turn, were inspired by the Original Being from within. This was the hierarchy of care. Ocra felt her mind deepening, her picture of the world expanding, including more components and interconnections. She has always felt the universe as one big living organism, but now every little spot on an autumn leaf had a reason and purpose.

As the group drew closer to the Ice Ocean everyone emanated enjoyment into the crispy air. The extent of calmness echoing from the cold waters of this vast Deva was unknown to most of the Keepers. The Ocean communicated a deep meditative state, so all of them took out their deerskins and sat on the ground cross-legged. Directing her palms towards the thick torrent of life force carrying the message from this giant, Ocra was taking in the images, sounds, sensations and the mood. The picture of Mother Bharat’s creation appeared before her eyes, how she was once lost in the waters of the Causal Ocean and how an effulgent creature she had never seen before lifted her up again touching her only with his nose. This touch, like lightning, struck her with overwhelming happiness, so she still remembers the place of his touch - it is located nearby, a ten-day walk to the ice and sunset.

Refreshed by the experience Ocra found herself on the feet among the peers still immersed in listening. She decided to explore the area while she waited. They were now in the low forests of the ice region, about two-days walk to the coast. Autumn came earlier here despite the seemingly sunny weather, and most of the surrounding birch-trees were bare, dry and almost grey leaves crunched under her feet as she went looking, or rather sensing, for a pine grove. Ocra had always enjoyed the company of pines more for their fresh life force, Oni liked them too and they would spend a lot of time in pine groves together - learning, playing, practicing the harp.

Shortly she saw the familiar dark-green tips and soon plunged herself into the soothing company of pines. This type of forest is usually spacious with no undergrowth, that is why Ocra easily noticed a distant opening full of big boulders that didn’t seem accidental. As she approached the opening the sun came out from behind a cloud and sent a bright ray onto the perfectly round place. The moss covering the massive boulders beautifully glimmered in the sun, specs of dust danced in the ray. It was a peaceful and reassuring picture. Ocra felt that she had come to the very place she was supposed to. And, as it was supposed to be, another life force entered the circle of boulders. Ocra sensed him first - a powerful Keeper unlike anyone she had ever met - and then saw a towering figure. “Imil” he emanated, folding his palms and bowing to her.