Legend of Divine Island

“There is a legend,” the Wiseman smiled, “of the Divine Island, inhabited by singing Angels, where, seemingly, even the time ceases its movement. We transfer it to our warriors from one generation to another, and each and every year several brave ones stand out from the crowd, willing to find this true miracle.”

“Have anyone of them achieved it yet?” the young man questioned.

“We don't know it for certain. Probably, many of them were lost on a journey to the Bridge. Possibly, some of them decided not to ascend it and turned back, but, being tormented by feelings of shame and fear, decided to never return back home, having found themselves a haven in foreign lands. Perhaps, someone, at last, has managed to pass on the Bridge and reach the Island, but whether will they decide to come back to our usual world, if they have once tasted that mysterious heavenly beauty? And, besides all other things, the very living on that Island should have transformed them so much that lots of people would certainly not be able to recognize them, renewed, even if they returned to our habitual home.”

“And what is that wondrous Bridge that you have mentioned?” curiosity and genuine interest were shining in the eyes of the young warrior.

“Would you like to hear the legend of the Divine Island?” smiled the Wiseman.

“Yes!” the young man ardently answered him.

“Well, then listen and remember it well!”


“This Island is not marked on any of earth maps, yet it still exists. Many say that it's too majestic for the foot of mere mortal to step on its surface… others do argue that only those who have passed mysterious trials are given this unique chance and joy. Probably, someone would compare this island to an earthly paradise and would surely be mistaken, for his ideas of paradise are too superficial and ambiguous.”

“And where is this Island located, in what overseas lands?”

“It's far and still close to you at the same time. And the first thing required for each of the warriors marching in a journey is the Intuition.”

“And what in fact is that Intuition, and how can one find it inside himself?”

“The voice of Intuition can only be heard when the mind of yours becomes silent and heart of yours starts speaking. The first steps are always made with Intuition, therefore those who have chosen a wrong direction initially may never find the Island, even if they will have been traveling through many foreign lands throughout their entire life.”

“But are those still able to once hear the voice of their Intuition, and curtail to the right path?”

“Certainly, if they will manage to suppress inner whispers of own Arrogance.”

“And what happens with those who once chose the right way?”

“At the beginning of their journey to the Island, they have to pass through the Wood of Life Difficulties.”

“And what is that – the Wood of Life Difficulties?”

“It's a mystical forest full of growing trees, which people have agreed to call among themselves no other way than Problems.”

“And why did you call this wood mystical?”

“The fact is that every traveler sees this wood its own way. Someone cannot distinguish among a never-ending stream of trees the wood itself, while another practically doesn't see any trees at all. This wood is live, it possesses its own reason and behavior, and is capable of changing and transformation of itself according to each wanderer in compliance with his World-Outlook. That's why for some it seems as dark and gloomy, with a set of various clinging foot snags, fenny bogs, burdock, and nettle thickets, while for the rest it becomes a bright and sunny wood with joyfully-rustling trees, ever-singing birds and juicy berries, growing here and there under their feet.”

“And why one has to overcome this wood on his journey to the Bridge at all? Cannot we simply bypass it somehow?”

“One has to pass through this entire wood so that he can accumulate enough Wisdom, without which it will be extremely difficult to journey to the end.”

“And what is awaiting us further, after the wood? Probably the very Bridge to the Island itself?”

“Oh, certainly not!” the Wiseman smiled good-naturally. “Just behind the wood, the River of Time keeps flowing.”

“What a strange name for the river! And who has decided to call some usual river so pathetically?”

“Oh, if only it was some common river! But no, it's even more surprising than the Wood of Life Difficulties itself.”

“Most probably, it's very wide and filled to the bottom with some sort of predatory fish like piranhas?” the young man cheerfully burst out laughing. “Nevertheless, it's probably not too difficult to cross it by swimming.”

“No sort of predatory fish is ever present there,” the Wiseman unexpectedly replied firmly. “To be bitten for feet by some pity piranhas – it's such an insignificant trial! It's much more uneasy to feel the Link of Times under own feet and pass the river, leaning on it.”

“But what's that – the Link of Times?”

“The rope bridge, connecting two sides of the river, is called that way. This bridge is very, very, extremely ancient and old, for it has existed there since the most ancient eras, connecting the times. Waves of time of that river are lapping under it, sprinkling it with myriads of water drops and consequently during all the time of its existence the bridge has become extremely slippery. An inexperienced and self-assured traveler can easily slip on its boards and fall down to the river.”

“But is that not possible to get out of river back on the coast and start everything anew?” the young man was surprised.

“Alas, but as soon as the man gets caught into the raging whirlpool of that river, the time starts flowing for him so quickly and uncontrollably, that, when he will finally manage to swim to the coast, he can have already become elderly aged man, and thus will possess neither the forces, nor time or desire to move through the river any further.”

“But how is it possible not to stumble on that bridge through the River of Times? How can I truly feel the bridge under my feet?”

“The feel underfoot the link of times means to understand that behind the last instant there will be a following, and behind the current, there was the previous one. We were forgetting the previous instant and never knew the following, but that doesn't mean that there was no previous, and the following would never come true. To understand that means to feel the link of times, and, feeling it, not to slip. To understand the rapidity of time and the value of each given to us instant means to cross the bridge over the River of Times.”

“All that is so uneasy!” the young warrior sighed. “Well, and what is awaiting us after the River of Times? Now it will probably be that main Bridge at long last?”

“No, before reaching the Bridge on the Island, one still has to travel through the entire Desert of Loneliness.”

“Sounds very terrifying!” exclaimed the young man.

“In the Desert of Loneliness, each man remains alone with himself. In the Desert of Loneliness, he is being tormented by his own demons, over whom he still hasn’t totally prevailed in course of own life. Demons of Fear, Doubt, and Grief are being encountered there more often than others. It seems to the traveler that he is left alone and abandoned to the mercy of fate, though it's his fate itself that leads him through this scorching desert. Demons are constantly tormenting him, trying to make him fall in despair and curtail from own path, for they do clearly know how very close is the final goal of the traveler. The sun of reason does constantly burn down his skin, poisonous scorpions and snakes of evil thoughts endlessly crawl under his feet. There is a lonely Oasis of Hope in that desert, yet one can reach it only by the end of the day when your forces are practically extinguished, yet there is a faith in a miracle living deep inside your soul. Those who have reached the Oasis are granted the good fortune of Strength of Spirit, which is so greatly required for the ascension on the Bridge. From the Oasis to the Bridge there lie two more days of traveling through the desert.”

“But how must the traveler move under the scorching sun for two whole new days? This is a pure suicide mission!” the young man cried out.

“By noon of the third day, the Angel from the Divine Island comes to a half-dead traveler. He covers him from burning beams with his snow-white wings, helping to restore his forces.”

“And how did you manage to learn all that?” the young man was feeling uneasy. “After all you must have never seen even a single Angel in your entire life!” he exhaled.

“So says the legend,” the Wiseman smiled. “And besides all that, there are still few ones living in our world, who have once met them face to face one way or another.”

“And what occurs then?”

“And then the desert once comes to an end, and the man comes to the Bridge.”

“That very one, leading to the Island?”

“Yes, that one! It's said that the Divine Island lies in the middle of Ocean of Life and is surrounded with high rocks, hiding what lies inside them from eyes of strangers. The only way for those daring to get on the Island is to pass on the Bridge alone. The Bridge gradually rises up, ascending higher and higher from the rocky foothills banding the desert directly to the center of the Island. It' said that there is a cave in the rocks through which it's possible to enter the valley in the center of the Island, – but one can reach the cave only by passing the Bridge.”

“Well, if the traveler managed to reach the Bridge at last, then it would not be difficult at all to overcome the rest of his path!” the young man sighted cheerfully.

“Oh!” the Wiseman answered with irony, “if only it was that way! The truth, in fact, is that all the previous trials were only the preparation for the last step. The entrance to the Bridge is being guarded – protected by a huge and terrifying many-headed and almost invincible hydra. This hydra possesses many thousands of heads, breathing poisons of envy, sulfur of contempt, the fire of irritation, squealing and abusing the warrior in thousands and thousands of voices in many ways. It's almost immortal, because as soon as you have overcome in a verbal duel one of her heads, another one immediately grows on its place, being even more awful and terrible than the former one. So, envy transforms itself into cruelty, contempt becomes hatred, and irritation turns into anger, and from the endless abuse your very ears can wither easily.”

“What is the name of that monster?!” the young man exclaimed in horror.

“It's called no less than Public Opinion,” replied the Wiseman. “After all, if one desires to reach his most cherished and pure dream, he must once overcome the roughest and condemning Public Opinion. The truth is in fact that despite almost full invulnerability of this monster, the traveler can nevertheless ascend the Bridge, because this monster with his entire external dreadfulness isn't capable to cause any harm until he is engaged into the fight by the will of the traveler, who have forgotten the true purpose of his journey.”

“But how is that possible to evade this monster?” the young man was surprised.

“One must simply… pay no attention to it!” the Wiseman burst out laughing. “This monster is being fed by the very surpluses of human attention, and by such emanations, he finds his next victims. Those who desire too much attention, the risk to become too dead sometimes.”

“Wow!” the young man exclaimed, being struck by what he has just heard. “How simple and difficult at the same time is all that!”

“Those who managed to pay no attention to abuse and rage of those aspiring to lead them away from their cherished dream, pass by a monster and step on the Bridge, starting to rise by Steps of the Way.”

“And what do these Steps look like?”

“The legend says that they are unique for each and every traveler. They can vary in quantity and distance between each of them. Each step is like an unforgettable instant of time, a moment stretched to infinity in eternity. Each step is one of the most important lessons given to the one on his Way, what he is truly lacking and for what he has once started his journey. It's sort of fixing what has been learned previously.”

“And then what?”

“And then the traveler sees under his feet the storming ocean and steps, leading him afar, and the sun, shining on him. It happens from time to time that the distance between the steps becomes too long, so it's impossible to neither pass nor jump over them in a usual way to keep moving.”

“But how is that even possible to overcome such a distance then?”

“And for this task, there must be a Faith living inside you. Only having the Faith can you step into the air between the steps and not fall down to the ocean, raging far below. Arguments of mind never help here, common knowledge becomes useless, and no usual earth skills or abilities are of any aid either. Walking on the Bridge, you are being transferred into a totally another dimension and is being changed with each and every step on it, returning back to your true nature. This is your true awakening.”

“Well, and then?”

“And then you pass through the Cave of Resurrection, cut down in rocks, stepping on the land of the Divine Island. You can call it as the Island of Pure Dream if you desire. I dare not to describe this Island even with the words of a legend, for so it's surprising and magnificent!”

“Whoooh, what a journey!” exclaimed the young man as soon as the Wiseman has finally gone silent, cheerfully and with love in his eyes looking at his so attentive and grateful listener.

“And what will happen with those who have finally managed to reach the Divine Island? What new unforgettable adventures and encounters are waiting for them ahead?”

“And this is, oh my attentive friend,” and Wiseman happily patted the young man's shoulder, “will be a whole another story!”


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