Boat Ride

             Rain came again to the valley. It fell heavy and steadily through one night, and did not lessen until after noon the next day. The deluge was enough that flood conditions were reported in the township of Dome Valley, and the stream swelled so its course could be easily viewed from the upper windows of the city. Floods were not uncommon in the low-lying valley where the sanctuary sat, and the spongy ground easily accepted the excess water. Heln found himself with a new appreciation for the wet weather. His work at the pond had wrapped up for the time being, and the rain was now becoming a fascination rather than a frustration. After having lunch and seeing the clouds lighten to a drizzle, he rode his bike out towards the fields.

The fewer bushes west of the Sanctuary allowed Heln to better feel the sky as he rode. The luminous gray of overcast created a pleasant roof, and accentuated the rest of the worldly colors. Everything seemed more vibrant, and richer to perceive. Soft waving green moved past as he glided above the path. The ground rose and fell in broad lumps and it was difficult to tell where one, standing on the surface, would suddenly find themselves in waist-high water. The shaggy grass hid flooding well, and one usually felt the edge of a pool before seeing it.

The path led south-west from Dome Central and out into open mowed fields near a broad depression that cut the tended plain roughly east to west. The bottom of the depression was usually a sort of barren wetland, but now a small lake filled the ditch most of the way across. Heln left the wilderness boundaries of the Sanctuary and approached the lake over short-clipped open grass.

The temporary shoreline was featureless, and Heln was captivated by the sight of the clean-cut grass, only shoulder-height at most, meeting in a smooth line the glassy surface of the rainwater lake. From the angle where he sat, the entire surface of the water was a mirror sheen, entirely the colors of the sky above. As he neared the edge however, he began to see the drowned world beneath- a ripply lawn of mystery. Hearing a sound, he looked up to see a small makeshift boat approach his location. At the helm was a smallish man dressed in undyed loose-fitting clothes. He wore a sun hat and a soft smile that seemed to change from perceiving to greeting as he drew near. Heln dismounted from his bike and walked through damp grasses to the water's edge.

The edge of the depression slanted firmly enough that Heln could stand on dry land while the other approached. He called out in appreciation of the makeshift craft.

“Ho! I see some have been making the best out of this weather! That looks like a pleasant time.”

The boat man drew up to the shore and nodded to Heln. “My boat can fit one more if you would like a ride. It is quite something to explore these rainpools while they last. Such a pretty sight to look down on a world that never gets to hide like this.”

Curious, and in an exploratory mood, Heln stepped aboard the small vessel. “is there something the scholars learn from going out on these pools?” he asked. “I have heard of others doing this, and even keeping boats expressly for the purpose,” the boatman nodded, “...but it was never clear to me if that was just for recreation, or if there was some other benefit.”

“First of all,” the boatman responded, as they drifted out into the open water, “there is a great benefit to something, even if it is just for fun. But yes, to your point, there is knowledge to be gained out here. For example, small things that were buried or inaccessible may now float closer to the surface where they can be studied or harvested. Small creatures are sometimes more easily hunted in their displacement, and others can be found and saved from nature's destruction. We, as in all times and places here, are tenders of the eternal garden. There is surely benefit in that.”

Heln looked back at the boatman. “Are you a priest of some sort? I don't hear many in the city use that sort of language.” “Not exactly,” the boatman replied, “I consider myself a disciple of Moriyama. Yes,” seeing the look of surprise on Heln's face, “even if the physical branch here was disbanded. I still see the sun every day.” He smiled and tilted his face to the sky.

---

Heln had been gazing in the water for some minutes, enthralled by the grass floating in liquid wind; finally realizing its dream of the sea. Turning his mind finally from the playing-sea weeds, he engaged the boat captain once more, who had been absentmindedly steering them around the lake, lost in thought, reverence, or both.

“Do your teachings of the sun mention anything about hallucinations of light?”

The captain turned, interested. “In some contexts. Why do you ask?”

Heln recalled for him the event of the previous week. The orange-red flash had happened once more since, but the visual and accompanying mental effects had been considerably less, and thinking back on it now, that third time for sure had probably been a dream. “For the last four days though, there has been nothing out of the ordinary. Given the intensity of the experience, and the similarity between occurrences, I'm exploring multiple theories. I had thought to consult a mystic on the matter as well as doctors, and this seemed a fortuitous meeting.”

“Indeed it may well have been.” said the boatman, regarding Heln now in a different light. “Unfortunately I do not have the answers you seek. I am but a humble disciple living out here in the country and have much yet to learn myself. However, I may still be able to help. You should go east and seek out the wisdom of Fen Golbein, one of my most respected teachers. They are a master of all color-knowledge, and would certainly know what is causing this phenomenon. Take whatever conventional medicine the doctors deem necessary, but also pursue this course, because the world is greater than you or I are aware. Also, the journey should not be in vain because Fen is a wonderful character in any case.”

“Where in the east should I go to find this master Golbein?” Heln asked.

“Hmm. He resides in the Eastern Piedmont, but often travels around teaching where there are few scholarly academies. I cannot say where exactly he is now, but many in that region will have stories of his comings and goings.”

The boat had by now made its lazy way back around to Heln's bike on the north shore. “I thank you for your advice,” said the dark-skinned Plainfield man as he debarked, “and the boat ride; it was a wonderful diversion.” The boatman smiled back under his sunhat. “It is always wonderful to pause and see the wonder of the world. I thank you as well for your company.”

“Good day to you sir, and may the sun shine on your life.” Heln seated himself back on the bike and turned, gliding up away from the water as the boatman signed a friendly goodbye. Heln thought about the advice he had been given. Should he make a journey through the eastern mountains just because of a couple strange hallucinations? The semester was finished, and work had slowed considerably with the rainy weather. Heln looked past the city to where the land began to rise to higher ground. Maybe an adventure was just the sort of thing he would like to do. As he rode towards the city, he didn't even notice the glint of reddish orange in the periphery of his vision.

Woodland Meditation

             Ayleah left the Sanctuary during the dry months, despite Telon's dissuasion efforts to the contrary.

The blue scholar sat contemplative in a pleasant grove amid the foothills of the eastern mountains. A brook flowed somewhere in the distance and lent its soft song to the chirruping and lilts of birds hidden up in dense green branches. There was a peacefulness here in woodland seclusion that allowed him a moment to think.

Surrounded by the folds of rock and fern, with towering trees sprouting here and there to complete a comforting shell of nature, Telon felt at ease and apart from the concerns of any other aspect to life. He could focus on the events of the past few days and the journey that lay ahead. He thought back to the star charts Lucan had shown him in the head office. The astronomers of the Sanctuary claimed the discrepancy between the charts was statistically significant. Telon had little knowledge of the science of astronomy, but surmised that the astronomer's equipment was sufficient to make such a statement as well. The scientists had seemed a touch alarmed even at the discovery, but Lucan had, as always, remained impassive.

The conclusion of the meeting, after some digressions into wild speculation, was that Telon should make a trip into the mountains to see what interpretations the scholars there had to offer. Some twenty years previous, a group had left the Meadow Sanctuary on a quest to seek diverse sources of wisdom, and established their own counterpart sanctuary high on the slopes of the mountains, near the small village of Battell. Over the years, the Battell Hermitage had kept little contact with the valley scholars, but earned a reputation all the same as a respected land of knowledge and mystic study.

A long-distance transport from Dome Central had taken Telon part of the way, but from here on into the hills he would have to walk or find other transportation. Certainly once he began the real ascent of Peak Abrahim wheeled conveyances would be of little use. The sea-like fields of jungle grass and rolling island groves had been replaced by a rocky and verdant world that stretched away into deep tangled murkiness on all sides. Though enclosing, Telon also liked the forest for its openness. The lack of tall grass allowed for much easier travel and the security of sight lines should anything or anyone try to waylay him on the trip. The route was a safe one, but the hills are wild country, and not all animals or other woodland dwellers are friendly to travelers.

The star charts. Telon hadn't seen a huge difference between them; the stars all looked the same to an untrained eye like his. However, if the scientists thought there was an outside chance for concern (and Lucan had agreed as well), Telon was willing to make the trek for research. If something had significantly changed about the placement of the stars, which had stayed on the same track and at the same brightness for as long as civilization could remember, most scholars would want to know the cause. Further, if the shift continued and affected life more generally, there would definitely be more cause for concern. Hopefully, Telon thought, whatever is causing the shift in the star position is mostly innocuous and something the scholars of the Battell Monastery are already aware of.

Certainly Telon couldn't think of any recent change in life for him or any others. The Sanctuary and the other cities all seemed to go about their business as usual. The days went on with the sun rising and setting just as it always had done. Perhaps there had been more rain lately, but such fluctuations were normal from time to time. Only, now that he thought of it, there was one thing he had experienced lately. Twice now, and only in the past week in fact, he had experienced visual hallucinations. The first was a glowing orange light seen across one of the market squares. Thinking it could be a new art installation, he had crossed the square for a closer inspection. However, he had glanced to the side once on his way there and upon looking back, the orb of light was gone. He had looked around a bit for a projector or source of any kind, but the more he thought about it, he questioned if he had even seen the light at all. The second time had happened when he first walked into the woods from where the long-distance transport had left him. There was always a sense of relief for Telon when leaving one of those transports and feeling leaves or sky above him once more. This time however, upon entering the canopy of the trees, the green leaves seemed almost incorporeal. Some quality of the soft light that day made the greenery begin to seem aetheric and dream-like. As he looked around, more of the leaves seemed to discolor and fade away. As the green faded from the world (other, duller colors seemed to remain), a blur of whiteness passed over his vision. Just as Telon thought he might pass out, normal vision returned and the previous moment seemed like it had been a dream of the night before. He had shivered, and continued on his way, trying to remember the strength mantra he had learned back in his Queen City days.

In his peaceful grove, Telon realized that neither of these events had been in his conscious memory until just now. He wondered if the visual phenomenon he had experienced were connected to each other, and why both of them seemed so much more like dreams than actual moments from waking life. He could ask the Battell scholars about these things as well. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply. A quick meditation to center the thoughts and energy, and then he would be on his way again.

A minute or two have passed since the blue-clad scholar left for the mountains. The grove where he meditated continues as before; the birds twitter and the distant brook bubbles. On the forest floor is a pleasant rock where he sat in contemplation. Moss creeps up around on the sides, extending from its vast home in the surrounding earth. Gentle shafts of sunlight fall nowhere in particular, accenting the space. From out of some unseen nook, a single petal of a columbine drifts across the open rock, blown by a light forest breeze.

Ayleah Journal Entry #3

 Telon gave me this nice little book, and said I should try keeping a journal, but I admit I forgot about it during the travels here and now I've barely written in it at all.

I've been at the Sanctuary for more than a year now, taking classes and experiencing the life of a (small, they tell me) city. Telon set me up in a dormitory on the upper floor and gave me a city card to cover my food, travel, and whatever else I might need while in the city. There's a lot more here of everything than back home, because they get shipments in from metro trading centers all over the place. Everything within the city walls is free or at lowered cost if you have a city card for the Sanctuary, and it allows access to the outlying township as well. The township is like a rural village that gets support from the city since it's co close by.

I've been spending a lot of time outside the city walls, partially because Telon said that I should make sure to “stay in contact with the land” while I'm here. To be honest, I would have wanted to explore anyway – the land here is so different from Silver Cove. It can be a little boring, since all around the city are flat open fields, and the trails into the tall grass beyond have few features along them. There are some really amazing places around here though, like the Green Bend Park I went to on a field trip (I've been taking a class here on land-work). We saw where an entire small river flowed from the end of a huge pipe sticking out from under a bridge. Above the bridge a wetland trickled down to join the torrent, but below the water coursed through a muddy chasm twisting into the reeds. The land around the streams slopes in interesting thickets, and sometimes water even bubbles right out of the ground!

There are also the places where a watchtower looks out over the land. I went to see the local fortress- I wanted to see what warriors of a sanctuary were like. When I told them who I was, they were nice enough, and gave me a tour of the walls. The walls of the fort are nothing like the city walls, just simple improvements on the trees and branches that are already there. We did eventually climb up really high though, and got to look out across the fields.

From the tower, the fields really didn't look that jungle-like, as they are when you try to go through them on the ground. They just seemed soft and warmly waving in the breeze. Out to the east the fields are very large: there is almost nothing on that sea of grass until a dark hill rises up on the horizon. Those hills are the real thing to mention though. A dark forest-covered bluff, much like the ones from home, but much much higher, and rising over waving silky green instead of waves. A couple lines cross each other: ranges of massive hills overlapping, each one rising a little higher than the last. Then, barely in view above them all, above all of us, I saw tall mountains far far away etched in a rich light blue. Something about the way those peaks reached into the sky gave me a yearning to stand up there, on top of everything. I have such a desire now to explore those dark and intricate folds of the land. Whatever is up there must be magical, because it is so far removed from everything else, and has climbed so high from the primordial waters.

Maybe this yearning for the mountains is why I've been having such strange dreams lately. It could also just be from living in such a different place though. A couple nights ago I had a dream that I was a tree, or that I was looking at a tree, or thinking about trees...it probably doesn't matter exactly. It was more of a sensation: I dreamt of peeling bark, each layer slowly stripping away and revealing some new horizon of existence. It wasn't painful, but I kept thinking it should have been. Eventually it all kind of swirled into a reality-muddle, and as the last layer got peeled away I woke up.

I went to ask Telon about the dreams, but they told me he had gone away on some errand. He should be back in a week or two though, and I'll bring it up then. Hopefully he'll have a good story from his time on the road.

---

 

Log 10055 School of Bioecology

08/13/2167

Student Name: Ayleah Pine

Subj: Environment, Local.

Introduction of Athyrium Filix-femina

in a Local Ecology – Cohabitation in Marsh Ferns

-for Discussion Section:

In this study we transplanted a single bulb of the fern plant Athyrium Filix-femina (Lady Fern) into an area already supporting a sizable community of Thelypteris palustris (Marsh Fern) in Willow Park. After successful implantation, we observed the fern community for one and a half growing cycles. Considering the nature of the area (wet, partially-shaded), we speculated that the Lady Fern would be a good fit and would hopefully prosper.

Initial results have been positive, with the introduced species producing both a fruiting body and a healthy dormant stage. Upon renewal of the growing cycle, the Lady Fern maintained good form and is adapting well to its new environment. We have also recorded secondary results. Among survey responses of residents near to the study area and visitors to Willow Park we found an effect on well-being. The introduction of a new (noninvasive) species to the community provided residents and visitors with a point of interest and even may have motivated more visits to the park.

Further research will, in the immediate sense, take the form of our continued observation of the fern community. We will be monitoring the health and spread of Athyrium Filix-femina, and its potential interactions with the existing Thelypteris palustris. If the interaction proves positive for both species, there may be an opportunity for future introductions. A working marsh fern arboretum would be a benefit to future bioecology studies, and would also provide a pleasant and calming point of interest.

Personal Notes:

-AP—Working on this project has been a wonderful experience. Coming from a background in very different sort of nature, I have thoroughly enjoyed gaining knowledge and experience about the marshes and plains. My understanding of plants and the places they live has grown exponentially in the past few moons. I have also greatly appreciated the help I have received from both my peers in the school and the locals of the Sanctuary. In particular on this project I want to thank Heln Borringar, the head of the Pond Shoreline Team this past cycle. They were instrumental in aiding our efforts to get the fern bulb planted and keep it safe during the study. Our two groups even developed a bit of a friendship, so thank you to Heln and his crew.

One Journal

 

“The last entry is dated a week before his disappearance”

“Go on, let me hear it.”

The day was an overcast one, unusual for this side of the growing cycle. Even just in the past two days it has rained quite a bit, and our efforts by the pond edge are mired for now. Work was canceled today again while we wait for things to dry out, so I went for a walk out in the groves to get some fresh air and relaxation. I must admit that time got away from me and I returned a good half hour past when I intended. Not unusual in itself, as I often lose myself in thought while out in nature.

I entered the city again and got some lunch before heading to my afternoon philosophy class. Class was unimpressive, but stimulating enough I suppose. It was on the way back home that the interesting thing happened. As I walked back to my apartment building a flash of reddish-orange light appeared for a split second in my periphery. I quickly checked in its direction, but found that it had disappeared, and my mind was quickly forming an impression that I had only imagined it. Or perhaps a light or the setting sun had reflected for an instant off some shiny surface, but no, upon inspection no such reflecting object could be seen either. In the place where I had seen the light was only a corner of the city wall. I turned the corner onto my street and still there was no sign of anything potentially bright-colored. It was as if a red squirrel had just darted behind this corner and, characteristic of squirrels, was watching me from somewhere cleverly out of sight. There are no squirrels in the city though.

I returned home, thinking less of the earlier trick of the light. As I sat at my table after finishing dinner however, I was struck by another odd visual sensation. The whole world around my seemed to darken and increase in vividness, as if the contrast between light and shadow had warped. A darkness seemed ready to envelop my vision, but it was not accompanied by the typical feeling of faintness. I mentally held my ground and the whole experience passed in under a minute.

These sights today I assume are nothing more than visual quirks, and I would perhaps be better off seeking an eye-doctor, but something in me wonders what interpretation the mystics would have. Unless these sights persist in a concerning way, I may have to pursue my curiosity in the coming days..

The scholar finished reading and looked up at the other. Lucan's eyes betrayed a meaningful look for only a split second before becoming impassive again. “And how long now has he been missing?”

“Heln has not reported for his last three shifts, or to any of the classes he would normally take between them. All attempts at contacting him have elicited no response, and his friends have reportedly not seen him either. On this the fourth day, we became especially concerned. His name has also not been found in any shuttle manifests for the past week, so if he left the city that way he would have been in disguise.”

Lucan met his gaze evenly. “We must find him, or any trace we can. Send word to the outposts and the shuttle stations to report anything they might know, and Davai- could you stay a minute? As the rest of the small council gave their bows and filed out, Lucan drew to the House-Sage's side. “Davai, I want you to secure the city in all ways, can you do that for me? Not just the usual attention to the physical barriers, but something else.” Davai caught the gleam of his eyes in the darkening room as he continued. “I want this place to truly be a sanctuary, should anything drastic happen in the greater world. I want to know the inhabitants of these walls are surrounded by the best sort of protection energies we can muster. I know you are up to this challenge.” Davai gave a short bow as he replied. “I would be honored maester. It will take some time and effort to gather the proper materials, but it can be done easily enough, and we will all sleep the better for it.”

With that assurance, Davai left the Head Sage's office to go and make the evening rounds, and Lucan was left alone with the journal. He gazed at Heln's writing, still relatively fresh on the page, and wondered what was going through the man's mind right now, wherever he might be.

Snow Angels

 

Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.

Swaddled in protective layers, the body moves steadily and surely over snow and ice and frozen blades of grass. Little is regarded by the subtle senses of the soles, percepting through rubber and wool in this season. A trunk, tree-like yet in motion across the plain, it culminates above in a gaze, filtered and protected by a polarized lens. The sight sweeps back and forth at times, turning the whole of the body in the process, neck constrained to one degree in the warm padding. The gaze takes in the wondrous world around: hazes of dormant plants hiding in veils of wind-blown crystals. The sun is hiding too, a soft dim glow in the midst of the clouds. The body continues across the landscape, crunching firm even ground with every step. Amid squall and weather swirl, a feeling of command suffuses consciousness, borne from the steady travel of the body through space.

In the thicket there is a slight calm. Not quite enough crossing branches to elicit the true calm of the woods on a day like this, but still a respite from the blowing charge of the fields. A path, drifted in places and winding in a treaded course softened by time and sun. It leads eventually to a window, an opening on the world downwind. Out on the plain you see them, blowing across the open flats, swirling in their charge. The dancing stampede. Like unyielding bison the snow devils, pirouetting in crashing flocks; sweeping the storm winds along. They play and scamper, rein and snarl, all in furious pace. Their feet leave no trace upon the tundra floor but a wisp of icy shadow; a light swirl of crystals that scatter their essence back into the whole.

The clouds shift and dance above the scene, an intricate stage lighting for the show. Without warning or too much suddenness, there is an opening in the clouds and she rises, coalescing. A stillness comes to the mind and the gaze is fixed on ethereal angelic presence in garb of glowing silver. The shepherd of this wild flock is glorious over her range. An angel held in the open space the sun has made. The ephemeral deity is nothing but a shaft of light-filled flurries tinged golden by the western rays. Yet this here is the truth of the divine. Where else could it be sought if not here in the raw forces, where else could she be real if not in the reality? For a moment the sight beholds something truly exalted, though the mind cannot fully grasp its meaning. Consciousness holds itself in a suspension of reason, in pure communion with the magic of base perception. Inhaling, the body breathes the divinity and accepts itself as a part of the storm. Consciousness perceives itself in that moment as but one small moving part in the grand flow of reality. The angel is turning along her path. She gestures out and embraces her swirling charges, and absorbing, falls back into the oneness of the storm again.

The eyes closed, the body relaxed into the embrace of the wind. It speaks in unceasing whispers that roar through the halls of inner space. The calls of the wind hint at all the places it has been. It beckons to the promise of distant mysteries waiting to be found and realms beyond the salient world. Relaxing into these possibilities, the mind meditates. The body is protected, and the tension of the building squall all around awakens a deep calm within. Peace is found in the midst of the storm. It is a peace that tests and secures the wisdom within. The security is cold and sure as deep clear ice. Breathe, and receive the crisp life of the winter air. Held and released, it is the breath of reality itself. Listen carefully as it flows with you.

Eyes open again, the sun has dimmed. A fresh darkening of cloud is bringing thicker flakes again. The wind rises here and there, insistent in its raucous cries. Crows always seem to have a little too much intelligence for comfort. The body moves, consciousness acknowledging the gift it has been given by being in this spot at this moment in time. Steadily, the self seeks home again for recuperation. Glorious as it always is, the divine comes at a cost. No true communion is not sought out in a journey away from rest. Moving through the growing snow, the peace holds still in the heart, and is secured with each crunching step.

Welcome, Heln of the Plains

         Wonderful and unique, that feeling of mud squelching between ones toes. In his youth he and some others had found a patch off in the corner of a field where fresh water-course lost its banks. The thick grass was stained with shallow pools, and the kids delighted in splashing around until it was all a brown mess. There would be places in the muck where a plate of earth held together and could be rocked back and forth with comical sounds adding to the playground effect. The smell of cool splashed mud and trampled grass under a clear sun were among his favorite memories of childhood.

Though the weather and place could hardly be more similar, he found it difficult to compare the joys of then and now. The mud made the same sound, as they dredged it up from the hole, but the smell was different. Coming from so deep, and forced from its bed in the marsh, it had an overpowering richness that stank of decay. It was good earth, as much as the clay-plain could offer, but it resisted its transition to the open light of day and the process gave none of that childhood sense of ease. The sun burnt down, more noticeable now in his older age. Every now and then he would feel the coolness of the water, dirty yet soothing all the same.

In crews of four they worked, spaced along the muddy shoreline, in part creating it as they progressed. Reeds towered up on either side, sheltering the open expanse of their work-pit. Between the shore and the shallows of the marsh stood an open expanse of muddied water, dug out steadily by their efforts. As they brought the rich clay up from the depths, other crews came to take it away for use in various places. The mine served a dual purpose of providing earthen material and solidifying a long-overgrown shoreline of the swampy lake. Where the crew had already been, the shoreline was clear and solid; a rough open lawn with a view to the cattail forest.

Tough work, and he would be covered with mud by the time his shift was done, but Heln Borringar enjoyed his assignment. His interest lay in the historical studies, specifically those relating to the Natural Cults. Residence at the Sanctuary's academy was an obvious choice, and he had since spent much of his time working hands-on with the local cultural artifacts. There were many aspects to the maintenance of a natural temple, especially one as large as the labyrinth here at the Sanctuary. Much as when he was a child, he delighted in working with the land and building something meaningful in union with that land. That it had a spiritual and cultural connection to a storied past (and future?) of mystery cults only deepened his commitment. He relished his studies in the library nearly as much as his work out in the muddy fields.

The digger plunged back into the water, gliding as smooth as the machinery could manage, and scraped for another load of clay. Uncountable insects called from the forest of cattails and marsh grass, and the distant shadows of birds flitted across the golden sun. the scoop came up only partially full this time, and that was an indication that they would be moving position soon. The open pool would be left to regrow vegetation, and the new shoreline monitored for stability. The digger, anchored out in the marsh, slowly moved toward its next spot, and soon the work had begun again. At the end of his shift, Heln climbed the grassy bank and stood looking west across the roadway. An irregular line of rocks, thirty feet tall or so, stood beyond: the outermost ring of the labyrinth. Most of the rocks were overgrown with grass between them and along their sides, so only the jagged peaks showed through. Here and there though places had been cleared, and he knew that a lot more work had been done in the inner rings. Eventually the whole labyrinth would be cleared, cleaned, and fortified so that maintenance might be easier in the future. A well-maintained labyrinth could bring pilgrims here for both worship and study – all to the continued health of this sanctuary community. As the sun gleamed golden in the western sky, Heln felt grateful to be a part of this work, and for the place he had found in the world.