The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide to Disillusionment

Gratitude

When I travel through dark zones with no repeaters, I notice the light panic that descends on me as I reach out to my missing followers. Then I relax into the simple awareness of my breathing and the vibrations of the wheel on the road. This wholesome simplicity feels important, like waking from a long dream.

– The Wakeful Wanderer's Guide, Vol. 3, line 728

Reyleena soaked in the sunshine and greenery, sitting on the old simple wooden steps leading to her cabin on the mountainside. She had left this place thinking there was somewhere else she could go. After her meeting with The Other and the early emerging spring peepers, she knew that isolation was best and, ditching the Raider's motorcycle by the side of the river, walked through the night back to the Silent Sisters of Jay. The sisters wordlessly washed her. She wept for no reason other than for the simple physical beauty of it. Perhaps she felt some of her grief dislodge with the soap and water, laying at her feet, too heavy to run down the drain; perhaps it was only part of her lost life. The sisters could offer no comfort other than the sponge and water and towels and hot soup and a bedroll on the floor of the shrine room. It was enough.

The Other appeared and vanished sporadically. They accompanied her on her walk back to the retreat, guiding her route, warning her of dangers. As she returned to the silence of the sisterhood, they appeared occasionally, making inquiries as to her state of mind. Reyleena responded the first few times that she did not want to speak, even in silence to them. She threw herself into her chores and practice and refused to engage with The Other every time they appeared.

The Other seemed to be trying out ways of fitting into her life at the retreat, shifting their color from sky blue, to sea-foam green, to violet. The Other had no fixed gender. They would sometimes appear with a male body with short or no hair, and then in a female form with long flowing hair, the same color as their skin. Sometimes they sat with her, sometimes they left her encouraging messages, complete with animated envelopes. They were adjusting to her new way of life, Reyleena thought. Perhaps they were nothing more than a complicated service bot, after all, adapting to changes in her persona. It was reassuring to think she might not be harboring a monster.

Two weeks after her return, one of the sisters, a woman who wore her long dark brown hair in three tight buns, came to her bringing a basket of flowers. Reyleena was perplexed but graciously accepted them with a bow. The woman shook her head and pointed to a handwritten note nestled between the blossoms. Reyleena placed the basket on the floor and read.

"For the Weeping Mother, who has also lost her only child. I weep with you."

It was unsigned. The woman with the buns pointed in the direction of the door and opened her hands upward and down to show the flowers had been left there. The sisters weren't permitted to communicate in sign language or thext, but Reyleena found they could be extremely articulate in their simple gestures when the need arose.

Reyleena rose and walked hastily to the door, but there was no trace of anyone along the path. Not knowing what to do with them, she kept the flowers next to her that day, before offering them to the shrine.

The shrine itself was an empty table with a white cloth spread over it. Aside from a large empty glass bowl in the middle, it was sometimes adorned with candles, offerings of water or tea or small portions of food, and flowers when they were available. Reyleena placed the basket at the foot of the shrine and hoped she had not broken an important rule. It remained where it was for the rest of the day so she assumed she didn't offend.

The next day, another basket of flowers appeared. The handwriting was different, but the message was similar.

"I weep with the Weeping Mother. I have also lost my precious son."