And that was the way of things.

Every morning, Priya woke up before dawn to finish her chores, then ran to meet Tohki before the sun crested the eastern slope.

Her lessons varied depending on the day and the season.

Early on, Tohki’s lessons revolved around the various herbs around her hut and garden with occasional walks through the vale, collecting herbs that grew in the wild. Tohki taught that wherever they harvested, before taking anything, they would always greet Terra and ask The Mother for her permission, taking only what was needed and no more. While they harvested, Tohki taught Priya the songs and prayers they would offer The Mother in return.

As they walked the length of the vale, Tohki would have Priya focus on mastering the stillness. Or rather that ability to move in and out of the stillness; always being one with the stillness while she was still one with her self. These lessons were always paired with confusing dialogue with Tohki; dialogue that walked a fine line between brilliance and insanity.

Recognizing how much time Priya and Tohki spent outdoors hunting for herbs, Priya began to collect young seedlings, replanting them in Tohki’s garden. At times when a seedling couldn’t be found, Priya would gather seeds, pressing them between a wet piece of wool until the seeds would crack open and a sprout would form. This she had learned from her mother, watching Anissa tend their garden over the years. This practice allowed Tohki’s garden to grow and Priya was able to spend more time working with Tohki and mastered the various herbal remedies that kept their community healthy.

There was a pattern to the healing process that Priya enjoyed. Every plant had its place. Different amounts and different uses provided different results. Sometimes a plant would be used in a tonic to help reduce a child’s fever. Other times, the same plant’s leaves would be ground with some beeswax and a few other herbs to aid in the healing of a wound. Some plant’s fruits could be used medicinally, while others were poisonous and only their leaves or stems would be used.

It was harmonious work and Priya saw how her work alongside Tohki was a model for how the stillness manifested itself in her work. The I Am, Eusou’s Love, The Mother—it was all there, present in nature’s healing bounty, given back to the community, just as they gave and supported one another. It was love, pure and simple.

As pure and simple it was, it was still work for Priya. One afternoon, Josif showed up at Tohki’s door with Tahel, a welt on his forehead oozing blood. Priya’s first thought was not about helping him or about his wound or if he was concussed, but a memory of how he teased her for how she always smelled like dung.

When she paused at the door, Tohki pushed past her and knelt in front of Tahel, examining his pupils for signs of something worse than a bump.

And Priya just stood there, caught up in the dialogue of her heart and mind, realizing how silly it was to attach feelings of being hurt for what was a very essential role her family had in the village.

After Josif and Tahel had left, Priya explained to Tohki why she froze.

Tohki listened in silence for a while, a small smile creasing the corners of her lips. “When we are born, all that exists is our mother. She was there before we were born and she was there after as a person of great comfort, warmth, and nutrients. Then we became aware of ourselves. One of our earliest words is ‘mine.’ We are very selfish creatures when we are young. It isn’t until we are a bit older that we begin to develop a capacity to care for others beyond ourselves and loving-kindness emerges. But even then it only extends to particular people and groups and sometimes that sense of loving-kindness changes, extending to some people on some days, but upon an offense, it shifts, leaving those people and being applied to another, entirely different group. We wrestle for years with this sense of belongingness, love, and care and sometimes our sense of self can cripple our ability to love ourselves enough to extend that sense of love, true love, Eusou’s love to others. The passage that the men and women of the village undertake is a component of breaking down those barriers and getting us to expand our sense of loving-kindness past certain people and groups and extend it in a more widespread manner.

Stolen novel; please report.

“In a few years, Tahel will go through his passage, but for now he is a child and he will probably continue to misbehave to get attention. When he teases, he is looking for you and others to acknowledge that he exists and that he isn’t insignificant. These are roles we have all played at some point in our lives.”

Priya nodded. “But what can I do so that I can be ready to serve instead of freezing like I did?”

“Why are you bothered by this little boy saying that you smell like dung? Do you?”

“No,” Priya replied, shaking her head. “I don’t.”

“Then stop attaching meaning to something that is meaningless. You can feel slighted by an insult, but feel slighted, and then be at peace. Slip into that space where you are you and you are the stillness within.”

And so it went. Day after day Priya worked with Tohki learning the healing arts and deepening her understanding of the mysteries of Eusou and The Mother.

A month passed and then another.

The vale took on a golden hue as the green grass that surrounded the lake turned brown and the days grew colder. Soon the lessons paused so that Priya could help the rest of the village with the harvest.

Priya, Anissa, Serah, and the other women in the village tended the gardens. Onions and garlic bulbs were hung from their stems from the rafters. Holes were dug at the side of each house to store yams, potatoes, carrots, rutabagas, and turnips. These vegetables were layered and covered in dirt so they would stay cool and not rot during the winter months. Cabbages, lettuces, and broccolis were left where they grew to be harvested as needed.

Berries were gathered from the woods by the children. Most were eaten before they could be distributed through the village.

Aaron, Josif, Zachael, and the other men spent most of their days in the surrounding fields. With scythes in hand they cut down the grain that would feed the village and the animals through the winter months. The grain would be bundled back to the village. There, in the late afternoon, everyone would work together, rubbing the stalks between their hands to separate the grains from the chaff. What fell to the ground was gathered for the animals, but what remained was ground into flour and divided amongst the villagers.

Deep in the vale where the tall grasses grew, the men walked through, cutting it down to finish drying out. Once it was dried out, Aaron hitched the horses to the wagon, and they would bundle together the fresh hay and load it onto the back of the wagon. Some was distributed throughout the community to help stuff and fluff beds, but most was stored for the animals.

The hunters built smokehouses, hanging strips of venison and freshly caught fish to dry. While they would still venture out into the forests to hunt, these preparations were still needed for the coldest of days when the snow was deep and they couldn’t venture outdoors.

Deep in the forest, trees were cut down for firewood. Aaron’s wagon was once again used to deliver load after load to the village.

Serah and Zachael brought spun wool from their sheep. The wool had already been cleaned to remove dirt, debris, and grease. In years past, Priya had joined them for this ritual. It was fun to wash the soft, course hairs. But even more fun was when they would place the wool on flat boards that had rows of short, sharp metal hooks. The boards would be rubbed against each other over and over again, combing the hairs out until a light, airy fiber would appear. This in turn was gathered and spun onto sticks so that clothing could be woven from it.

As Tohki and Priya walked through the vale, Tohki pointed out the signs that signaled a longer winter than usual: thicker scales around onions, early departures of the ducks and geese around the lake, woodpeckers sharing nests in the forests, the thick hair that began growing at the napes of the heifers’ necks.

These signs intensified their work, combining various leaves, stems, seeds, and flowers into tea bundles and tinctures. Priya delivered baskets of these remedies throughout the village and vale, sharing blessings from her and Tohki for the winter to come.

And then the first snow fell and the busy sounds of the village all but disappeared.