Poem: "The State of Perfect Stillness"
This poem is spillover from the December 7, 2021 Poetry Fishbowl. It was inspired by a prompt from Dreamwidth user See_also_friend. It also fills the "World Peace Meditation Day - December 31" square in my 12-1-21 card for the Winter Fest Bingo. It has been sponsored by a pool with Dreamwidth user Fuzzyred. It belongs to the Rutledge thread of the Polychrome Heroics series. It follows "The Basic Source of Peace," so read that first or this won't make much sense.
Warning: This poem is mostly fluff and comfort, but war trauma causes a crying baby.
"The State of Perfect Stillness"
[Monday, June 2, 2014]
Ahzan wandered the streets
of Rutledge with Hasra in
her baby sling, howling.
Nothing he did for her
really seemed to help,
no matter what he tried.
All he could do was
carry her; they might be
miserable, but at least they
could be miserable together.
Presently his wandering feet
brought Ahzan down the path
to the familiar yellow building
that held the Peace Store.
He felt a bit guilty with Hasra
wailing like a storm siren, but
the quiet store made Ahzan
relax, so maybe it would
help Hasra feel better too.
Last month's classes on
Meditation and Peace Studies
had really helped him cope.
This month, he had already
taken Introduction to Yoga,
and he was looking forward to
Introduction to Peace and Conflict.
Ahzan opened the door and
stepped inside, embraced
by the smell of incense and
the sound of flute music.
Instantly Kshanti popped up
from where he was stocking
a shelf down near the floor.
"Ahzan? What's wrong?"
The girl behind the counter
vaulted over it and strode
toward them, her long legs
quickly closing the distance.
"Is everything okay here?"
Trillabelle, that was her name,
one of the high school girls.
"This is my daughter Hasra,"
said Ahzan. "She screams
most of the time since ..."
He winced away from
the memory. "... before
we came to America."
"Oh yeah, you told me
a little about that earlier,"
said Kshanti. "Poor kid."
Hasra just cried louder.
"I should probably go,"
said Ahzan. "She'll just
chase off your shoppers."
"No, stay, if anyone ever
needed peace, it's you two,"
said Kshanti said. "Babies
cry because something hurts,
yeah? She may not remember
much at her age, but she knows
that it hurts, so she cries a lot."
It always hurt, and there wasn't
anything Ahzan could do about it.
He sniffled. If he started crying,
he wouldn't be able to stop either.
"You sure she doesn't have,
like, colic or anything bad?"
Trillabelle said, worried.
"The doctor looked at her.
He told me that he couldn't find
any physical cause," said Ahzan.
"She is ... behind other babies,
doesn't do all things they do."
"So?" Trillabelle said. "My mom
breastfed me until I was four and
my baby brother was born. People
used to say something was wrong
with me because I was so slow
to wean, but that's baloney. Me
and my mom are just really close."
"Close is good," said Ahzan.
"Yeah, don't let anyone 'should'
on you and Hasra," said Kshanti.
"After all that's happened, you
can't expect her to be 'normal.'
Just let her be herself, whatever
that is. She'll stop crying when
she's done being sad, is all."
"Or maybe when something
makes her forget it for a little bit,"
said Trillabelle. "It may not
get better all at once."
"Now there's an idea,"
said Kshanti. "Can you
take care of customers
for a while? I think I can
give Hasra a distraction."
"Sure, no problem,"
said Trillabelle. "We're
not busy. I can handle it."
"Right, I'm gonna make
some calls and gather up
an OM circle," said Kshanti.
"What is ... um circle?"
Ahzan said, confused.
"People stand around and
chant OM," said Trillabelle.
That didn't clear up anything.
"On hearing the sounds
of OM, the mind goes to
the state of perfect stillness
and the bliss of infinity arises.
The chakras and nadis create
divine melodies like a heavenly flute,"
Kshanti said. "Also, chanting OM
tends to make babies stop crying."
Well, Ahzan understood the last bit
just fine. "I'll try anything," he said.
"I'm sorry that she's so noisy."
"Nah, don't worry about it,"
Kshanti said as he took out
his smartphone. "She's not
the first little indigo we've
raised, so we're used to it."
"Indigo?" Ahzan echoed.
He didn't understand much
about English slang yet.
"Indigo children are special,"
Trillabelle said, taking over for
Kshanti. "They're more in tune
with the world, and sometimes it's
hard on them. Most babies don't cry
so much, they're just not that sensitive."
If it was something familiar, something
that the peace people understood
how to deal with, then Ahzan would
count that as a godsend whatever
they called it. The doctor hadn't
even given him a guess, other
than 'delayed development.'
"She's not just ... slow?"
Ahzan said. "That's good."
"Who knows? She's only
a baby," said Trillabelle.
"Give her time to figure out
what world she's in before
you start rushing her."
That made more sense
than anything else people
had been saying about it.
Most of Hasra's life had been
running here, running there,
so when would she have had
time to learn anything?
More people began
to come in, apparently
responding to Kshanti
rather than shopping.
An older blonde woman
showed up along with
a younger man who
had long brown hair.
"I'm Mountain Rose and
this is my son, Patchouli,"
she said with a warm smile.
Hasra stopped crying, looked
over at her, then wailed louder.
Ahzan closed his eyes. If he
didn't look, Mountain Rose
sounded almost like his mother.
"Oh, such a sad baby," she said,
offering Hasra a finger to hold.
"We'll sing it better soon."
Happilona Starr came in
next. Ahzan had already
met the matriarch of
Emerald Mountain Glen,
and hated to bother her.
She didn't look bothered,
though, she just joined
Mountain Rose in cooing
over Hasra together.
A much younger woman
arrived. "I'm Sadie Flower,"
she said. "Happy to help."
"Let's take it to the Circle Room,"
Happilona said then, waving
for everyone to follow her.
The mismatched chairs and
couches were familiar now,
and Ahzan gave a happy sigh
just stepping into the room.
Happilona pulled a cushion
from one of the chairs and
set it down on the floor.
"Put her in the middle,"
the old woman invited.
Ahzan shook his head.
"I can't put her down, that
would make it worse."
"Well then, both of you
sit in the middle," she said.
So Ahzan sat down and
settled Hasra into his lap.
Everyone looked at Happilona.
She opened her mouth and
began to sing, but it wasn't
like any song Ahzan knew.
There weren't any words,
really, just a long "ohhh"
and then a longer hum.
The others in the circle
picked it up one at a time,
going around and around,
some voices higher and
other voices lower.
They rose and fell,
rose and fell, and
the sound soaked
into Ahzan's bones,
pushing out the tension.
Hasra's crying changed
its pitch to follow the chant,
then slowly began to quiet.
Ahzan could hardly believe it,
but there it was -- the chant
was actually working.
Hasra snuffled, then
stuffed a fist in her mouth
and started sucking on it.
Kshanti grinned, turning
his thumb up in approval.
Ahzan thought they would
stop singing as soon as
Hasra stopped crying, but
they didn't. Instead, they
kept chanting until she
actually fell asleep.
He wasn't sure that
he could even remember
the last time she fell asleep
from anything other than
complete exhaustion.
Eventually they let
the sound fade away.
Ahzan held his breath,
but Hasra didn't wake up.
He couldn't blame her,
the chant felt so good.
It was like prayer, almost,
but it worked better. He felt
swept out and clean inside,
like something had rinsed off
his soul and hung it in the sun
to dry out, warm and fragrant.
That was perilously close to
apostasy, but Ahzan couldn't
bring himself to care about it.
This was as close as he'd gotten
to feeling anything spiritual in years.
He had just been going through
the motions, hoping nobody else
would notice how empty it was.
"How did you do that?" he whispered,
looking up at the circle of hippies.
"It was just a sound ... wasn't it?"
"OM is not just a sound or vibration,"
said Happilona. "It is not just a symbol.
It is the entire cosmos, whatever we can
see, touch, hear and feel. Moreover,
it is all that is within our perception
and all that is beyond our perception.
It is the core of our very existence.
That is how it soothes people."
Whether or not that was true,
the chant was certainly the most
soothing thing Ahzan had found.
"If you think of OM only as a sound,
a technique, or a symbol of the Divine,
you will miss it altogether," said Patchouli.
"It's so much more than that, and that's
what you feel when you listen to it."
Ahzan couldn't deny that he had
felt something, and he liked it.
Whether it was anything to do
with Allah, that he could not say.
"OM is the mysterious cosmic energy
that is the substratum of all the things
and all the beings of the entire universe,"
said Kshanti. "It is an eternal song of
the Divine. It is continuously resounding
in silence on the background of everything
that exists. So that's how it brings peace."
"I thought you told me that you don't
actually sell peace here," Ahzan said.
"Well, we don't," Kshanti replied.
"The peacework comes free.
That's what we're here for. Retail
is just what keeps the lights on."
"Thank you," said Ahzan. "It
was kind of everyone to come."
"There aren't a lot of problems
this simple to fix," said Patchouli.
"So when we see one, we tend
to take the chance while we can."
"Hasra will wake up eventually,
though," Ahzan pointed out.
"Yeah, but whenever she's
in here crying, we can remind
her that she has people who
care about her," said Patchouli.
"Sooner or later, that'll stick."
"I hope so," Ahzan said.
"In the meantime, why
don't you pick out an album
to take home?" said Kshanti.
"We have plenty of OM ones.
I can pop a store copy into
the player if you want to listen
to them before choosing one."
Ahzan had already bought
a singing bowl album and
a yoga flute album, and he
was even thinking about
the sitar one that the teacher
had played as a teaser to get
people eager for the next class.
"Yes, please," he said. "I like
the music you sell here. It is
much peacier than what
the mall store carries."
Kshanti laughed. "Yeah,
we're way more peaceful
than pop music at the mall.
Check their classical section,
though, or ask for Baby Mozart."
"Baby Mozart?" said Ahzan.
He was pretty sure that Mozart
was some sort of musician, but
not what that had to do with babies.
Mountain Rose stepped in. "Listening
to music is supposed to make people
smarter, especially babies," she said.
"Reading is just as good as music,"
said Kshanti. "My parents are
pretty work-focused, but when I
was little, they read to me a lot."
Happilona snorted. "What people
really need is lots of interesting things
to do and freedom to play with them."
"Outdoors," Sadie said firmly. "People
need to spend more time in nature."
"My friend Yusuf threw me out,"
said Ahzan. "He told me I spent
too much time indoors. So he took
Hasra for a while and sent me out.
That's how I found this place."
"Good friend," Kshanti said. "He
gives sound advice. Come on,
let's find you two an album."
Most of the other people
drifted away, but Patchouli
stuck around to help Ahzan
pick out some OM music.
It turned out that most of
the titles had a single singer,
and Ahzan wanted one with
multiple voices singing in
a round like they'd just done.
Finally they found the kind
of album that he wanted.
"Good choice," said Patchouli.
"Say, if you like chanting, you
should come to our OM circles."
"OM circles?" Ahzan said,
looking over at Kshanti.
"We get together and chant
OM like this," Kshanti said.
"It's not on the schedule
because it's not a class,
it's a community thing."
"I shouldn't intrude,"
Ahzan said, wistful.
"It's not intruding if
you're invited, and
I think Patchouli is
right," said Kshanti.
"You should come
join us if you want to."
"Then yes, I would
like to know when,"
said Ahzan. "I think
that it would help us."
"Okay, folks, I need to get
back to my own music,"
said Patchouli. "I hope
that we'll see you later."
"You want me to ring this up
now, or are you still shopping?"
Kshanti asked Ahzan. "Did you
come in looking for something
that we kinda derailed earlier?"
Ahzan sighed. "I wanted to get
a baby book for Hasra," he said.
"Something ... not hard. She
is behind on so many things."
"What kinds of things?"
said Kshanti. "If it's like
moving or talking, sometimes
there's a glitch in that one area."
"She can do most three-month things,
some six-month and nine-month things,
but not many twelve-month things,"
Ahzan said. "So I worry about her."
"How old is she?" said Kshanti.
"Eleven months," said Ahzan.
"She can move, except she won't
crawl or walk. If I put her down,
she just screams and screams."
"You can't put down a high-need baby,"
said Kshanti. "They'll scream the house
down. So yeah, sometimes they crawl and
walk late. Same with sling babies, they're
always held, they don't need to move
on their own until they just want to."
"Hasra hasn't even tried talking, she
just screams," said Ahzan. "She
won't try any food other than milk
from a bottle. But there's nothing
wrong with her ears or her mouth."
"Sounds to me like she's just upset
about all the awful stuff that happened,"
said Kshanti. "There are things she
won't do, maybe because they're scary
or maybe she's just not done with
whatever came before them."
Ahzan rocked in place, swayed
by the familiar waves of grief.
"Yes, awful," he echoed.
"I don't know how to help.
I thought a book might be
a nice way to spend time, but
I can only afford one thing today
and the OM is more important."
"A book is a fantastic way
to spend time," said Kshanti.
"Let's check out the swap shelves."
Those were in the book room
along with the activist kits of
poster making supplies,
button machines, and
other things that Ahzan
didn't really understand yet.
"Fiction and miscellaneous books
go on the top two shelves, then
bohemian and activist stuff on
the middle two shelves, with
children's books on the last two,"
Kshanti said. "You take one shelf
and I'll look through the other one."
Ahzan took the upper shelf
while Kshanti folded himself
gracefully onto the floor to look
at the titles on the bottom.
There were books made of
strange, thick cardboard
that had only pictures.
Some had scraps of
sparkly foil on them,
others had patches
of fur or even puppets
made out of soft cloth.
One had tiny toys
stuck inside the pages
that you could count.
Another had a sheep on
the cover that squeaked.
None of it made any sense.
"Why are these so ... we
don't have ..." Ahzan mumbled.
"Not the kind of books you're
used to, huh?" said Kshanti.
Ahzan looked down at Hasra,
then shook his head. "No,
we only had ... simple books."
"Okay, something basic, just
pictures and maybe words,"
said Kshanti. "You want
me to pick something?"
"Yes, please," said Ahzan.
"This is all too new for me."
"No problem, let's see
if we've got any of
my favorites today,"
Kshanti said, flipping
through the books.
"Aha! This one."
He showed the cover.
The picture had a cat of
some kind with stripes
in rainbow colors.
"The Tie-Dye Tiger,"
Ahzan sounded out.
"Like the colored clothes?"
"Exactly," said Kshanti.
"It's about a tiger cub
who doesn't want to eat
other animals, but I won't
say anything more than that."
Ahzan leafed through the book.
It seemed simple enough, and
the pages were thinner, familiar.
"Yes, I like this," he said. "Free?
Sign says take one, leave one."
"That just means don't empty
the shelves," said Kshanti.
"You can take a book today,
and leave one another time."
Hasra snuffled, sucking
harder on her tiny fist.
"Looks like someone is
starting to get hungry,"
said Kshanti. "Let's ring up
your album, and maybe you
can get home before she
wakes up wanting food."
"Yes, please," said Ahzan.
It only took a minute, then
Kshanti put the CD and
the book in a bag for him.
"Peace out, dude," he said,
draping an arm over Ahzan.
"Peace out," Ahzan replied,
leaning into him and enjoying
the state of perfect stillness.
Then he headed out, feeling
lighter and almost ... happy.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear separately.
Warning: This poem is mostly fluff and comfort, but war trauma causes a crying baby.
"The State of Perfect Stillness"
[Monday, June 2, 2014]
Ahzan wandered the streets
of Rutledge with Hasra in
her baby sling, howling.
Nothing he did for her
really seemed to help,
no matter what he tried.
All he could do was
carry her; they might be
miserable, but at least they
could be miserable together.
Presently his wandering feet
brought Ahzan down the path
to the familiar yellow building
that held the Peace Store.
He felt a bit guilty with Hasra
wailing like a storm siren, but
the quiet store made Ahzan
relax, so maybe it would
help Hasra feel better too.
Last month's classes on
Meditation and Peace Studies
had really helped him cope.
This month, he had already
taken Introduction to Yoga,
and he was looking forward to
Introduction to Peace and Conflict.
Ahzan opened the door and
stepped inside, embraced
by the smell of incense and
the sound of flute music.
Instantly Kshanti popped up
from where he was stocking
a shelf down near the floor.
"Ahzan? What's wrong?"
The girl behind the counter
vaulted over it and strode
toward them, her long legs
quickly closing the distance.
"Is everything okay here?"
Trillabelle, that was her name,
one of the high school girls.
"This is my daughter Hasra,"
said Ahzan. "She screams
most of the time since ..."
He winced away from
the memory. "... before
we came to America."
"Oh yeah, you told me
a little about that earlier,"
said Kshanti. "Poor kid."
Hasra just cried louder.
"I should probably go,"
said Ahzan. "She'll just
chase off your shoppers."
"No, stay, if anyone ever
needed peace, it's you two,"
said Kshanti said. "Babies
cry because something hurts,
yeah? She may not remember
much at her age, but she knows
that it hurts, so she cries a lot."
It always hurt, and there wasn't
anything Ahzan could do about it.
He sniffled. If he started crying,
he wouldn't be able to stop either.
"You sure she doesn't have,
like, colic or anything bad?"
Trillabelle said, worried.
"The doctor looked at her.
He told me that he couldn't find
any physical cause," said Ahzan.
"She is ... behind other babies,
doesn't do all things they do."
"So?" Trillabelle said. "My mom
breastfed me until I was four and
my baby brother was born. People
used to say something was wrong
with me because I was so slow
to wean, but that's baloney. Me
and my mom are just really close."
"Close is good," said Ahzan.
"Yeah, don't let anyone 'should'
on you and Hasra," said Kshanti.
"After all that's happened, you
can't expect her to be 'normal.'
Just let her be herself, whatever
that is. She'll stop crying when
she's done being sad, is all."
"Or maybe when something
makes her forget it for a little bit,"
said Trillabelle. "It may not
get better all at once."
"Now there's an idea,"
said Kshanti. "Can you
take care of customers
for a while? I think I can
give Hasra a distraction."
"Sure, no problem,"
said Trillabelle. "We're
not busy. I can handle it."
"Right, I'm gonna make
some calls and gather up
an OM circle," said Kshanti.
"What is ... um circle?"
Ahzan said, confused.
"People stand around and
chant OM," said Trillabelle.
That didn't clear up anything.
"On hearing the sounds
of OM, the mind goes to
the state of perfect stillness
and the bliss of infinity arises.
The chakras and nadis create
divine melodies like a heavenly flute,"
Kshanti said. "Also, chanting OM
tends to make babies stop crying."
Well, Ahzan understood the last bit
just fine. "I'll try anything," he said.
"I'm sorry that she's so noisy."
"Nah, don't worry about it,"
Kshanti said as he took out
his smartphone. "She's not
the first little indigo we've
raised, so we're used to it."
"Indigo?" Ahzan echoed.
He didn't understand much
about English slang yet.
"Indigo children are special,"
Trillabelle said, taking over for
Kshanti. "They're more in tune
with the world, and sometimes it's
hard on them. Most babies don't cry
so much, they're just not that sensitive."
If it was something familiar, something
that the peace people understood
how to deal with, then Ahzan would
count that as a godsend whatever
they called it. The doctor hadn't
even given him a guess, other
than 'delayed development.'
"She's not just ... slow?"
Ahzan said. "That's good."
"Who knows? She's only
a baby," said Trillabelle.
"Give her time to figure out
what world she's in before
you start rushing her."
That made more sense
than anything else people
had been saying about it.
Most of Hasra's life had been
running here, running there,
so when would she have had
time to learn anything?
More people began
to come in, apparently
responding to Kshanti
rather than shopping.
An older blonde woman
showed up along with
a younger man who
had long brown hair.
"I'm Mountain Rose and
this is my son, Patchouli,"
she said with a warm smile.
Hasra stopped crying, looked
over at her, then wailed louder.
Ahzan closed his eyes. If he
didn't look, Mountain Rose
sounded almost like his mother.
"Oh, such a sad baby," she said,
offering Hasra a finger to hold.
"We'll sing it better soon."
Happilona Starr came in
next. Ahzan had already
met the matriarch of
Emerald Mountain Glen,
and hated to bother her.
She didn't look bothered,
though, she just joined
Mountain Rose in cooing
over Hasra together.
A much younger woman
arrived. "I'm Sadie Flower,"
she said. "Happy to help."
"Let's take it to the Circle Room,"
Happilona said then, waving
for everyone to follow her.
The mismatched chairs and
couches were familiar now,
and Ahzan gave a happy sigh
just stepping into the room.
Happilona pulled a cushion
from one of the chairs and
set it down on the floor.
"Put her in the middle,"
the old woman invited.
Ahzan shook his head.
"I can't put her down, that
would make it worse."
"Well then, both of you
sit in the middle," she said.
So Ahzan sat down and
settled Hasra into his lap.
Everyone looked at Happilona.
She opened her mouth and
began to sing, but it wasn't
like any song Ahzan knew.
There weren't any words,
really, just a long "ohhh"
and then a longer hum.
The others in the circle
picked it up one at a time,
going around and around,
some voices higher and
other voices lower.
They rose and fell,
rose and fell, and
the sound soaked
into Ahzan's bones,
pushing out the tension.
Hasra's crying changed
its pitch to follow the chant,
then slowly began to quiet.
Ahzan could hardly believe it,
but there it was -- the chant
was actually working.
Hasra snuffled, then
stuffed a fist in her mouth
and started sucking on it.
Kshanti grinned, turning
his thumb up in approval.
Ahzan thought they would
stop singing as soon as
Hasra stopped crying, but
they didn't. Instead, they
kept chanting until she
actually fell asleep.
He wasn't sure that
he could even remember
the last time she fell asleep
from anything other than
complete exhaustion.
Eventually they let
the sound fade away.
Ahzan held his breath,
but Hasra didn't wake up.
He couldn't blame her,
the chant felt so good.
It was like prayer, almost,
but it worked better. He felt
swept out and clean inside,
like something had rinsed off
his soul and hung it in the sun
to dry out, warm and fragrant.
That was perilously close to
apostasy, but Ahzan couldn't
bring himself to care about it.
This was as close as he'd gotten
to feeling anything spiritual in years.
He had just been going through
the motions, hoping nobody else
would notice how empty it was.
"How did you do that?" he whispered,
looking up at the circle of hippies.
"It was just a sound ... wasn't it?"
"OM is not just a sound or vibration,"
said Happilona. "It is not just a symbol.
It is the entire cosmos, whatever we can
see, touch, hear and feel. Moreover,
it is all that is within our perception
and all that is beyond our perception.
It is the core of our very existence.
That is how it soothes people."
Whether or not that was true,
the chant was certainly the most
soothing thing Ahzan had found.
"If you think of OM only as a sound,
a technique, or a symbol of the Divine,
you will miss it altogether," said Patchouli.
"It's so much more than that, and that's
what you feel when you listen to it."
Ahzan couldn't deny that he had
felt something, and he liked it.
Whether it was anything to do
with Allah, that he could not say.
"OM is the mysterious cosmic energy
that is the substratum of all the things
and all the beings of the entire universe,"
said Kshanti. "It is an eternal song of
the Divine. It is continuously resounding
in silence on the background of everything
that exists. So that's how it brings peace."
"I thought you told me that you don't
actually sell peace here," Ahzan said.
"Well, we don't," Kshanti replied.
"The peacework comes free.
That's what we're here for. Retail
is just what keeps the lights on."
"Thank you," said Ahzan. "It
was kind of everyone to come."
"There aren't a lot of problems
this simple to fix," said Patchouli.
"So when we see one, we tend
to take the chance while we can."
"Hasra will wake up eventually,
though," Ahzan pointed out.
"Yeah, but whenever she's
in here crying, we can remind
her that she has people who
care about her," said Patchouli.
"Sooner or later, that'll stick."
"I hope so," Ahzan said.
"In the meantime, why
don't you pick out an album
to take home?" said Kshanti.
"We have plenty of OM ones.
I can pop a store copy into
the player if you want to listen
to them before choosing one."
Ahzan had already bought
a singing bowl album and
a yoga flute album, and he
was even thinking about
the sitar one that the teacher
had played as a teaser to get
people eager for the next class.
"Yes, please," he said. "I like
the music you sell here. It is
much peacier than what
the mall store carries."
Kshanti laughed. "Yeah,
we're way more peaceful
than pop music at the mall.
Check their classical section,
though, or ask for Baby Mozart."
"Baby Mozart?" said Ahzan.
He was pretty sure that Mozart
was some sort of musician, but
not what that had to do with babies.
Mountain Rose stepped in. "Listening
to music is supposed to make people
smarter, especially babies," she said.
"Reading is just as good as music,"
said Kshanti. "My parents are
pretty work-focused, but when I
was little, they read to me a lot."
Happilona snorted. "What people
really need is lots of interesting things
to do and freedom to play with them."
"Outdoors," Sadie said firmly. "People
need to spend more time in nature."
"My friend Yusuf threw me out,"
said Ahzan. "He told me I spent
too much time indoors. So he took
Hasra for a while and sent me out.
That's how I found this place."
"Good friend," Kshanti said. "He
gives sound advice. Come on,
let's find you two an album."
Most of the other people
drifted away, but Patchouli
stuck around to help Ahzan
pick out some OM music.
It turned out that most of
the titles had a single singer,
and Ahzan wanted one with
multiple voices singing in
a round like they'd just done.
Finally they found the kind
of album that he wanted.
"Good choice," said Patchouli.
"Say, if you like chanting, you
should come to our OM circles."
"OM circles?" Ahzan said,
looking over at Kshanti.
"We get together and chant
OM like this," Kshanti said.
"It's not on the schedule
because it's not a class,
it's a community thing."
"I shouldn't intrude,"
Ahzan said, wistful.
"It's not intruding if
you're invited, and
I think Patchouli is
right," said Kshanti.
"You should come
join us if you want to."
"Then yes, I would
like to know when,"
said Ahzan. "I think
that it would help us."
"Okay, folks, I need to get
back to my own music,"
said Patchouli. "I hope
that we'll see you later."
"You want me to ring this up
now, or are you still shopping?"
Kshanti asked Ahzan. "Did you
come in looking for something
that we kinda derailed earlier?"
Ahzan sighed. "I wanted to get
a baby book for Hasra," he said.
"Something ... not hard. She
is behind on so many things."
"What kinds of things?"
said Kshanti. "If it's like
moving or talking, sometimes
there's a glitch in that one area."
"She can do most three-month things,
some six-month and nine-month things,
but not many twelve-month things,"
Ahzan said. "So I worry about her."
"How old is she?" said Kshanti.
"Eleven months," said Ahzan.
"She can move, except she won't
crawl or walk. If I put her down,
she just screams and screams."
"You can't put down a high-need baby,"
said Kshanti. "They'll scream the house
down. So yeah, sometimes they crawl and
walk late. Same with sling babies, they're
always held, they don't need to move
on their own until they just want to."
"Hasra hasn't even tried talking, she
just screams," said Ahzan. "She
won't try any food other than milk
from a bottle. But there's nothing
wrong with her ears or her mouth."
"Sounds to me like she's just upset
about all the awful stuff that happened,"
said Kshanti. "There are things she
won't do, maybe because they're scary
or maybe she's just not done with
whatever came before them."
Ahzan rocked in place, swayed
by the familiar waves of grief.
"Yes, awful," he echoed.
"I don't know how to help.
I thought a book might be
a nice way to spend time, but
I can only afford one thing today
and the OM is more important."
"A book is a fantastic way
to spend time," said Kshanti.
"Let's check out the swap shelves."
Those were in the book room
along with the activist kits of
poster making supplies,
button machines, and
other things that Ahzan
didn't really understand yet.
"Fiction and miscellaneous books
go on the top two shelves, then
bohemian and activist stuff on
the middle two shelves, with
children's books on the last two,"
Kshanti said. "You take one shelf
and I'll look through the other one."
Ahzan took the upper shelf
while Kshanti folded himself
gracefully onto the floor to look
at the titles on the bottom.
There were books made of
strange, thick cardboard
that had only pictures.
Some had scraps of
sparkly foil on them,
others had patches
of fur or even puppets
made out of soft cloth.
One had tiny toys
stuck inside the pages
that you could count.
Another had a sheep on
the cover that squeaked.
None of it made any sense.
"Why are these so ... we
don't have ..." Ahzan mumbled.
"Not the kind of books you're
used to, huh?" said Kshanti.
Ahzan looked down at Hasra,
then shook his head. "No,
we only had ... simple books."
"Okay, something basic, just
pictures and maybe words,"
said Kshanti. "You want
me to pick something?"
"Yes, please," said Ahzan.
"This is all too new for me."
"No problem, let's see
if we've got any of
my favorites today,"
Kshanti said, flipping
through the books.
"Aha! This one."
He showed the cover.
The picture had a cat of
some kind with stripes
in rainbow colors.
"The Tie-Dye Tiger,"
Ahzan sounded out.
"Like the colored clothes?"
"Exactly," said Kshanti.
"It's about a tiger cub
who doesn't want to eat
other animals, but I won't
say anything more than that."
Ahzan leafed through the book.
It seemed simple enough, and
the pages were thinner, familiar.
"Yes, I like this," he said. "Free?
Sign says take one, leave one."
"That just means don't empty
the shelves," said Kshanti.
"You can take a book today,
and leave one another time."
Hasra snuffled, sucking
harder on her tiny fist.
"Looks like someone is
starting to get hungry,"
said Kshanti. "Let's ring up
your album, and maybe you
can get home before she
wakes up wanting food."
"Yes, please," said Ahzan.
It only took a minute, then
Kshanti put the CD and
the book in a bag for him.
"Peace out, dude," he said,
draping an arm over Ahzan.
"Peace out," Ahzan replied,
leaning into him and enjoying
the state of perfect stillness.
Then he headed out, feeling
lighter and almost ... happy.
* * *
Notes:
This poem is long, so its character and content notes appear separately.