> Thus have I heard. Disciples, when someone asks for the knowledge of the dharma from you, then you should tread carefully. Firstly, understand if they are ready for such knowledge. You must always teach according to the Learner's aptitude. Never force them into your own aptitude. Remember that the Dharma is for every being across all the Three Times.
>
> From The Triple Baskets Sutra
The Abbot led Raxri back to the monastery, but not inside its walls. A bit of a walk away from the walls of the monastery, down a well-trodden dirt path, muddy from dew and humidity, led to a small glade, where the mountain's slopes leveled. The trees here were tall, and the bamboos were thick and wide, large. They looked too large even for a human to heft them.
The glade had an interesting fragrance. Not a bad fragrance: in fact, the fragrance felt too artificial. Raxri could not pinpoint what it was.
In the middle of the glade was a stilt house, with multiple annexes connected by roofed walkways. It looked midway through a simple peasant's stilt cottage and a palace. Pigs and chickens loitered about the fenced off underside of the cottage complex. To the side, an unwalled shed with a half roof shading multiple workbenches where giant bamboo, hardwoods, rosewoods, sandalwoods, and inks.
The tattooist Ampun Sagara walked out from behind that pile of work. They wore nothing but a multi-layered sarong and wooden sandals. Their bare chest revealed ligers tattooed, with sacred symbols lining their teeth and back and constituting their stripes.
When he saw the student-master pair, he removed the pipe in his mouth and puffed out a healthy, slightly azure smoke into the sky. "Ah, Abbot Wairojashra. Raxri Uttara." Smiling, he returned the pipe to his mouth and bowed low with the mouth reverence. "How may I help you?"
The Abbot nodded. "The time has come, tattooist."
"Ah, has it now?" Ampun Sagara smiled. "Well, I cannot deny this. Truthfully, even the Lightning-Enterer's gait has changed." Ampun Sagara nodded, referring to Raxri. "The Sapi emanates from you now, when it once was nothing but a slight ripple, begging to be ignored."
"I am in Accumulation now, Ampun," replied Raxri.
"You learn quickly, but that is something you must do, after all."
Raxri nodded. "My excitement cannot be contained! But... answer me please: what is the time that now comes?"
"In truth," Ampun Sagara walked over to them and pat Raxri's shoulder. "Many of the monks that cultivate within the monastery are granted special access to the talismanic tattoos, to strengthen their Sapi Furnaces even further. They only earn these tattoos after significant moments in their life. One such moment is the ascension into the next stage of Sapi Cultivation."
"I see." Raxri felt pride creep up their liver, where their Sapi Furnace would've been. "I see! Then, please, I wish to partake."
Ampun Sagara turned to the Abbot. "For now," he said. "Complete the Shield Yantra pair. Then, the Shagara's Pillars, to their shoulders."
"Shagara's Pillars?" asked Raxri.
Ampun Sagara nodded, fingers holding their chin. "I see I see. A thoughtful one, that. Shagara's Pillars, so named after the King of Gods, is another protective yantra. But instead of protecting the marked subject from incoming harm, it instead restricts the flow of Sapi from the marked subject." The tattooist turned to the Abbot. "Am I correct in understanding your intent in this, Abbot?"
The Abbot nodded. "If we restrict Sapi from needlessly expiring, perhaps we can also prevent any more future scenarios of memory loss."
Raxri put their hands on their hips. "Smart." They nodded.
"It is. Well, if that is the mark of their ascension, I shall prepare the ritual stage."
The Abbot nodded. "I must needs prepare for my journey from the monastery. I shall leave you here. Do no harm and be of no nuisance to the tattooist."
Raxri bowed the mouth reverence to the Abbot. Ampun did the same. The Abbot left.
"Come," said the tattooist. "Come inside of my heart, for a moment." And Ampun Sagara opened the doors to his home.
Inside the cottage, a giant altar immediately greeted Raxri, burnished a humungous, nigh-human sized statue of a buddha. A tongue of flame was molded out of gold atop their crowned head. He had upon his face the half-lidded look of serenity endemic to all Buddha. Their body was clad in robes that fell to their ankles, and nothing more. This Buddha statue sat in the lotus position, with one hand raised pointing to the heavens, and another slightly touching the earth. Which, in this context, was the floor of Ampun Sagara's cottage.
Surrounding the Buddhas, all about the wide altar, were multiple palm leaf paintings of various other deities, others Buddha of names unknown to Raxri, many of them Bodhisattvas, even more of them Arhats. Arrayed they were as if they were an assembly, listening to the Buddhas. Beside each Buddha were three sets of flowers: lotuses of all colors, though they were overwhelmingly azure, scarlet, and ivory white. Not just lotuses, there were also jasmines, the death flower, and hibiscuses, the life flower.
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Before the statue of the giant Buddha was a lotus-shaped incense bowl. Three sticks stood tall from it, smoke wafting slowly and lowly.
In front of the table, slightly lowered, was a cushioned seat embellished to look like a lotus throne. Then, before the lotus seat, was a sapphire blue cotton carpet, brocaded with an interesting pattern: it looked like multiple ripples upon a pond intersecting and interpenetrating, creating other new ponds.
On both sides of the altar were the two windows, fully opened. The flurrious cold winds danced through.
Raxri realized then what the fragrance was. A unique interblending and intermixing of the smell of flowers, incenses, and the natural smell of bamboos and damp grass. It was an aroma that invited serenity and serendipity.
"Welcome," said Ampun Sagara, their tone reverent. "As someone riding the lightning, it would be wise of you to do your prostrations."
"Ah, right. Forgive me, I almost forgot." Raxri had been taught this by the Abbot. If in front of a giant altar, not just a shrine, of a buddha complete with palm leaf paintings and an assembly of other enlightenment beings, the proper course of action was to perform three prostrations. Crown reverence, then mouth reverence, then heart reverence, then fall onto one's knees and bow. While bowing, raise one's hands. This was the proper reverence to the wisdom of the Thus-Come-And Gone. Raxri did it properly.
"Good. You've been taught well."
"Tattooist Ampun. Who are the buddhas placed there? Forgive me for my ignorance."
Ampun Sagara shook his head. "Worry not about it. It is from ignorance that enlightenment must arise, as taught by the Tutelary Buddha of this Kalpa," Ampun gestured to the statue. "Victorious Highest Sage. A Jina Buddha."
"Oh, I see. How humbling." Raxri could do nothing but stare.
Ampun Sagara nodded. They walked over to a work table, where various pokers and inks of differing colors lay, neatly organized. "It truly is," he said, rifling through his pokers. Each poker was intricately designed: the blade resembled a flame, the handles resembled snaking dragons, or rising phoenixes. "He is a Conqueror of this kalpa, after all."
"A Conqueror?"
"Jina Buddhas are buddhas that have awakened to the truth of Emptiness in a world where there were no teachings to guide them," said Ampun Sagara. "In every kalpa, there are usually only three Jina. One for its Earlier Days, one for its Middle Days, and one for its Latter Days. The Jina's duty is to re-establish the teachings of the Dharma once it has dissipated from humanity due to the slow violence of time. The teachings of the Dharma, and the Dharma themselves, are Eternal. Jina are always on the Cusp of Enlightenment before their final reincarnation, bringing with them the teaching into a land lawless. Jina are separate from Bodhisattva in the sense that their holy duty is to show Extinction so that others may attain it. Bodhisattva then reveal themselves after a Jina fulfills their duty."
"Dharma?" asked Raxri.
"That's the Razrunan word for the Sacred Teachings," said Ampun Sagara, who was preparing their little knives and prickers. "It is translated into our trade tongue usually as the Law. But now that you know what it is, it should be fine to call it what it is. Dharma is a single word that means law, teachings, order, cosmos, or virtue."
"What heady business," said Raxri, thinking all the while. "So the Infinite Law is just the Dharma?"
Ampun Sagara nodded. "I'm sure the Abbot would've taught you this already. But it'd be best if you already knew: there is the Jinadharma, teachings of the Jina, which work to conquer one's self. Anantadharma, the Infinite Law, teachings of the Buddhas of the Three Times, which work to emancipate all sentient beings. Finally, the last one is known as the Krantidharma. The greatest of all the dharmas, taught by the Secret Buddhas. That one, I cannot speak of too much with you. You will find it out yourself. You have no choice. You must."
Ampun Sagara saw that Raxri was knotting their forehead thinking too much about what he had just said. Do not worry overmuch," said Ampun Sagara. A small lotus-shaped candle bearer burned near him. He heated the poker's blades over it. "That cosmology is only really revealed to those on the Thunderbolt Path. Such knowledge is, in truth, not required for eventual Liberation. Unless, of course, one takes on the Bodhisattva's Vows."
This one Raxri did not understand. Before they could ask, however, Ampun Sagara walked over to the altar, bowed thrice, and then sat on the lotus chair before it. They were facing Raxri. "Now, come. And take off your tunic."
"Ah. R-Right." Raxri removed their monochrome robes, which they diligently washed every two days. They also removed their tunic, but kept on the gray sarong that allowed them to move freely. They had developed considerable muscle ever since training, but all the muscle was smooth and straight. Their athletic body only became more refined, but they were muscular in the soft way that a runner would be, and not bulky like a perfecter of mountain arts. Raxri became self conscious all of a sudden, their hands covering their breasts. When they looked at Ampun Sagara, they found that he was busy rearranging the colored inks across their table, which was to their right.
"Come," said Ampun Sagara, beckoning to Raxri. The cloud-haired one nodded and walked over, sitting in front of Ampun Sagara. "I will be beginning from the back of your shoulders, and then going down to your elbows. Shagara's Pillars run down both sides, so it will take some time."
"What do I do while you paint me?" asked Raxri.
Ampun Sagara said: "Meditate and contemplate. Concentrate on the pain, as I work my way through you. Let nothing distract you from it. Through it, clear your mind, through pain attain right meditation. Through it, realize emptiness." The tattooist stared at Raxri Uttara directly into their eyes.
Raxri gulped and nodded. Though at this point they were more than used to pain, Ampun Sagara's intensity disquieted them anyway.
"Good," said Ampun Sagara. He lifted his poker and applied oil to the sections of Raxri's right shoulder where their blade was going to poke first. Then, he dipped the poker into black ink. As he did, he chanted lowly, under their breath, the appropriate mantras for the transferrence of power.
Raxri inhaled sharply. Ampun Sagara's hands were surprisingly soft and cold as it ran up Raxri's spine, then the blade of their shoulder, then upper ridge of their shoulder. More surprisingly was the softness of Raxri's skin. Somewhat supple, not solid stone like many mountain-lifters. Instead, theirs was the illusory tenderness of a sheathed blade.
Ampun Sagara said: "Fold your hands over your heart, and lean forward slightly." Raxri bit their lip and did so. Them in that prayerful position only enhanced the feeling of the ritual, and Raxri couldn't help but sink deep into the ritual's esotery. Suddenly, as they sat at the middle of the circle of rippling circles, they felt like the subject of a mandala. They were the ruling deity placed at the center, from which power emanates. They were made to be the center of that reality. They were made to be a god, or a Buddha.
Is this what emptiness was? Realizing you are all those things? But also realizing that all those things were you all along, and thus shattering the subject-object dichotomy?
Raxri waited for the poker to slice into their skin.