Mountain Energy

   I visit Master Xu every six weeks or so. Ostensibly, I see him for acupuncture, but a part of me is in it for his storytelling. He usually has a lot to say, and I always find it to be fascinating.

   Master Xu grew up in China, lived through the Cultural Revolution, and found a way to get himself to the United States back in the 1980s. So there’s that. He’s also an extremely gifted energy worker, so hanging out with him is like being in the presence of a shaman. His words and gestures all hint at deeper meanings.

   Master Xu stands in the mid fives, slightly bent. He’s slim and has a gentle, serene face – wholly unremarkable except for his eyes, which twinkle like a gnome’s might. I guess he’s probably about 160 years old. It’s hard to tell for sure because he dyes his hair.

   The last time I saw him, before we got into our acupuncture session, he asked me this: “You look like you need a vacation. If you could go anywhere for two weeks, where would you go? Master Xu pays for everything.”
 
   I paused for a moment and he quickly added: “Just kidding. You pay. But pretend it’s all free. Where do you want to go? Don’t think too hard. First thought.”
 
   “To the mountains,” I blurted out, surprising myself a little that I didn’t aim for a beach in the tropics.
 
   “Ahhh,” Master Xu declared. “You need Mountain Energy.” He closed his eyes and began gently swaying while humming a little tune.
 
   He was right. Mountain Energy does me a world of good. I grew up at the foot of a mountain at the edge of Appalachia. I spent a healthy chunk of my youth exploring every inch of that mountain, so I reckon its energy got all over me, got into my blood. There were some rock cliffs on that mountain that I remember particularly well. They made a great perch upon which to sit and survey the valley below, to watch some soaring hawks, to do nothing but breathe. I did a lot of breathing and a lot of thinking up there on those cliffs. And I did a lot of communicating with God. Of course, back then I didn’t understand that that was God.
 
   With Master Xu swaying and humming away, I sat there reminiscing about my mountain home, and recalling a few other magical mountain experiences that I’ve had over the years. There have been quite a few. Several minutes passed and then Master Xu came out of his mini-trance and told me that he had two stories that he wanted to share. I’m paraphrasing, but this was the gist of them:

*     *     *

   When I was a young man in China I would often go up into the mountains. Mountains without a name were wilderness. But if a mountain had a name…it meant there was a Master who dwelt there. I climbed a mountain named _____ one day. Somehow I always had the ability to sense when a Master was nearby. I could smell something different in the air. A special smell like something burning, but not really burning. This day I started to smell it. Suddenly an old woman appeared. Her hands and knuckles and cheeks were like a skeleton. She pointed to a special rock and said if I poured water on that rock, the Buddha would appear. I looked at the rock and took a few steps toward it. When I looked back, the old woman was gone. I approached the rock, knelt down, and poured some drinking water from my canteen on it. The Buddha appeared to me out of the forest. He was smiling. Then he faded away slowly.

*     *     *

   During the [Cultural] Revolution the Red Guard destroyed all the temples in the mountains. But I would sometimes still find one. Or sometimes I would see a monk walking in the mountains and I knew there was a hidden temple nearby. One day, high in the mountains, I met a monk. So I knew that I was in a sacred place. I was especially glad to see him because I knew he could guide me to a place where I could poop. I really had to go, and I knew I couldn’t just poop anywhere since I was on sacred ground. The monk pointed out a lean-to shelter, and I went there as fast as I could. In China, a toilet is a hole at ground level and you squat over it. Not like here in America where there is a little seat. So I squatted over the hole and did my business, while watching the mountain breeze gently move the bamboo reeds of the shelter. I felt very grateful that I had a nice place to poop and I was enjoying that clear moment you can sometimes have while going. But then, strangely, I didn’t hear the expected sound of my drop. Usually there is a satisfying sound to let you know when you’re done. It was then that I realized that the hole was very, very deep. Maybe it was miles. Maybe it was bottomless! Anyway, the hole went somewhere incredibly deep in the mountain’s heart and I suddenly became frightened in my own heart because I was standing on the edge of it. I was small and skinny then and I worried that I might fall in! I slowly tilted forward until my hands touched the dirt and I crawled on my hands and knees away from the hole. The mountain had humbled me.

*     *     *

   After sharing these stories, Master Xu got down to the business of the acupuncture session. I laid down, received my little needles and the good ol’ Qi started moving. I recalled, with surprising clarity and feeling, the time I saw a ghost on my mountain. I was about ten years old. The ghost was a soldier on a horse, moving silently through the woods. For the first time in my life, I thought about how the horse was a ghost too. Thinking about how there were actually two ghosts, not just one, somehow brought me closer to understanding the meaning of that vision on that day. But then I fell into a meditative state. Conscious thoughts melted away as the Qi ebbed and flowed. The Qi did have a special flavor, though. It was a special blend of my own Life Energy and Mountain Energy.
 
   I’m still feeling the Mountain Energy flowing through me right now, to be honest. The acupuncture session was five weeks ago.
 
– O.M. Kelsey