THE SECRET VALLEY, Part I
If Terra 12 involves a journey through space and time to find an inhabitable planet in a faraway solar system; The Secret Valley: A Tale of Ancient Nepal, Tibet, India, and China incorporates the quest for a lost relic, a cherished relic dating from the time of the Buddha. While that quest happens in a very different space/time continuum—1200 C.E.—the individual circumstances don’t matter. What matters is the journey.
If someone had told me years ago that I would write a novel which took place primarily in Nepal and Tibet, much less write a work of science fiction that occurred in a distant solar system… I confess. I would have been surprised. Only with hindsight can I fully appreciate why this was necessary.
Faraway planets… Ancient relics… In Terra 12, I showed you a world where greed and ignorance did not rule. Instead something much older and far wiser sustained that world. In The Secret Valley, I revealed how that same something works on Mother Earth. What has become apparent over time is the threat that has arisen from our choice to champion science, to embrace the Machine Age. Are we reduced to one last hurrah, as magic and mysticism disappear from our world?
Although I have traveled to India and Nepal, I have never visited Tibet nor China. Once these areas were forbidden, off-limits to foreigners. Sadly it has now become increasingly pointless to travel to Tibet as the magic of the past has been ground down to a caricature of what once flourished there. Meanwhile, my attempts to conduct research from afar was a reminder of how little was accessible from 1200 years ago except for the broad strokes. But how was I to do this story justice, armed only with my memories and imagination?
Fortunately, the more I entered that world, the more real that world grew. Characters would appear unbidden, to grace the stage for as long as needed. I had to laugh when I watched that delightful movie—The Man Who Invented Christmas—where Dan Stevens portrayed Charles Dickens. Remember that marvelous scene where he was seated at his desk, surrounded by his fictional characters all come to life, clamoring for his attention, demanding more time on the stage? But it was a reminder that in order to tell a story, you simply need to start. And then trust enough to allow the story to unfold gracefully in its own fashion.
Back to the relic. For me the penultimate moment of Buddhism is illustrated by the Flower Sermon. If you are unfamiliar with the Flower Sermon, let me provide a brief recap. After his enlightenment, the Buddha made a continuous circuit in India, stopping in villages to offer discourses on the dharma. It happened that in his later years, the Buddha and his disciples had settled near a pond to rest a few days.
Only… Instead of his usual discourse, the Buddha stood before his disciples, holding aloft a lotus flower. The disciples waited for the punchline, but the Buddha remained silent, alone with the flower. Understandably, as the silence stretched, his disciples became restless, concerned with this departure from the norm. What was the Buddha doing? Had the Buddha entered some new phase? Would the Master ever speak again? Suddenly, Mahakashyapa—a Brahman from Magadha—smiled. The Buddha smiled in return and handed Mahakashyapa the flower.
For those who could not grasp what had transpired, the Buddha provided this explanation: “What can be said I have said to you, and what cannot be said, I have given to Mahakashyapa.” The Flower Sermon has become the very heart of Zen, this wordless transmission. So… What did the Buddha transfer to Mahakashyapa? The most beautiful thing a Master can transmit: His energy, the energy that completely transforms the recipient. By smiling, Mahakashyapa acknowledged his awareness of this gift.
It’s important to understand that all Masters share their energy. If you happened to have watched A.D: The Bible Continues, you may remember that powerful scene where Jesus’ disciples were transformed into apostles by their Master’s energy. Granted the scene may have been swept up in Hollywood special effects, but it was a reminder that this is the way it works. The real transfer is spirit to spirit, soul to soul. It is wordless and invisible to those without eyes to see. Your whole life changes in that instant when the Divine awakens inside you.
Back to the relic… Thus the relic is none other than this lotus flower, preserved in crystal and secured in the stupa of an ancient Nepalese monastery, its greatest treasure. In fact, the relic is the greatest treasure of the Buddhist World, preserved and worshipped for 1700 years. Unfortunately, this notoriety made the relic a target for competing groups who coveted it for their own purposes. The story of The Secret Valley involves how these competing groups—the Mongols to the north, the Song Dynasty in China, a Rinpoche from Nalanda Mahavihara (a great and ancient university that had been recently overrun by the Afghans), and members of the Nepalese royal family—all contrived to secure the relic for their own ends. Along with one other party hidden in the shadows—the Tibetans.
What is the power of relics? Any object that has been worshipped for hundreds or thousands of years can absorb that energy. The object can be anything, including a building. Or a place. Whenever objects (of any kind) are worshipped over the course of succeeding centuries, they are transformed by the magic of love.
Admittedly, the quest for relics captivates us to this day, both in what we call real life and as represented in film. Certainly a number of the more entertaining movies in my lifetime have focused on such quests, including two from the Indiana Jones series, Raiders of the Lost Ark and the Last Crusade. Why do we chase after relics? Part of the reason is because we are caught up in our own desires. We hope to use the relic for our own purpose, whatever those purposes may be: perhaps to open a direct channel to God. Or barter the relic for fame and fortune. Or attempt to exercise control over the world’s destiny. But always there is some ulterior motive.
In Part II, we will continue this quest as we accompany our players on their own journeys. But understand that journeys don’t necessarily unfold as planned. They often take unexpected twists and turns. They can bring you into contact with others, contact that involves ever more surprises. Please understand that these are not just plot twists, some literary device to build and sustain suspense.
This is the way of all journeys. Of all quests. Even the story of your own life. You can choose to play it safe. You can attempt to keep Life under tight control so that nothing untoward happens. Only… Life is the unexpected. If you are unwilling to be surprised, you will kill the magic in your life. And if you kill that magic… Life will be a dreary affair.
I will leave you until we meet again with this reminder: Wherever your journey takes you, the ultimate destination is the same—to come home.
If someone had told me years ago that I would write a novel which took place primarily in Nepal and Tibet, much less write a work of science fiction that occurred in a distant solar system… I confess. I would have been surprised. Only with hindsight can I fully appreciate why this was necessary.
Faraway planets… Ancient relics… In Terra 12, I showed you a world where greed and ignorance did not rule. Instead something much older and far wiser sustained that world. In The Secret Valley, I revealed how that same something works on Mother Earth. What has become apparent over time is the threat that has arisen from our choice to champion science, to embrace the Machine Age. Are we reduced to one last hurrah, as magic and mysticism disappear from our world?
Although I have traveled to India and Nepal, I have never visited Tibet nor China. Once these areas were forbidden, off-limits to foreigners. Sadly it has now become increasingly pointless to travel to Tibet as the magic of the past has been ground down to a caricature of what once flourished there. Meanwhile, my attempts to conduct research from afar was a reminder of how little was accessible from 1200 years ago except for the broad strokes. But how was I to do this story justice, armed only with my memories and imagination?
Fortunately, the more I entered that world, the more real that world grew. Characters would appear unbidden, to grace the stage for as long as needed. I had to laugh when I watched that delightful movie—The Man Who Invented Christmas—where Dan Stevens portrayed Charles Dickens. Remember that marvelous scene where he was seated at his desk, surrounded by his fictional characters all come to life, clamoring for his attention, demanding more time on the stage? But it was a reminder that in order to tell a story, you simply need to start. And then trust enough to allow the story to unfold gracefully in its own fashion.
Back to the relic. For me the penultimate moment of Buddhism is illustrated by the Flower Sermon. If you are unfamiliar with the Flower Sermon, let me provide a brief recap. After his enlightenment, the Buddha made a continuous circuit in India, stopping in villages to offer discourses on the dharma. It happened that in his later years, the Buddha and his disciples had settled near a pond to rest a few days.
Only… Instead of his usual discourse, the Buddha stood before his disciples, holding aloft a lotus flower. The disciples waited for the punchline, but the Buddha remained silent, alone with the flower. Understandably, as the silence stretched, his disciples became restless, concerned with this departure from the norm. What was the Buddha doing? Had the Buddha entered some new phase? Would the Master ever speak again? Suddenly, Mahakashyapa—a Brahman from Magadha—smiled. The Buddha smiled in return and handed Mahakashyapa the flower.
For those who could not grasp what had transpired, the Buddha provided this explanation: “What can be said I have said to you, and what cannot be said, I have given to Mahakashyapa.” The Flower Sermon has become the very heart of Zen, this wordless transmission. So… What did the Buddha transfer to Mahakashyapa? The most beautiful thing a Master can transmit: His energy, the energy that completely transforms the recipient. By smiling, Mahakashyapa acknowledged his awareness of this gift.
It’s important to understand that all Masters share their energy. If you happened to have watched A.D: The Bible Continues, you may remember that powerful scene where Jesus’ disciples were transformed into apostles by their Master’s energy. Granted the scene may have been swept up in Hollywood special effects, but it was a reminder that this is the way it works. The real transfer is spirit to spirit, soul to soul. It is wordless and invisible to those without eyes to see. Your whole life changes in that instant when the Divine awakens inside you.
Back to the relic… Thus the relic is none other than this lotus flower, preserved in crystal and secured in the stupa of an ancient Nepalese monastery, its greatest treasure. In fact, the relic is the greatest treasure of the Buddhist World, preserved and worshipped for 1700 years. Unfortunately, this notoriety made the relic a target for competing groups who coveted it for their own purposes. The story of The Secret Valley involves how these competing groups—the Mongols to the north, the Song Dynasty in China, a Rinpoche from Nalanda Mahavihara (a great and ancient university that had been recently overrun by the Afghans), and members of the Nepalese royal family—all contrived to secure the relic for their own ends. Along with one other party hidden in the shadows—the Tibetans.
What is the power of relics? Any object that has been worshipped for hundreds or thousands of years can absorb that energy. The object can be anything, including a building. Or a place. Whenever objects (of any kind) are worshipped over the course of succeeding centuries, they are transformed by the magic of love.
Admittedly, the quest for relics captivates us to this day, both in what we call real life and as represented in film. Certainly a number of the more entertaining movies in my lifetime have focused on such quests, including two from the Indiana Jones series, Raiders of the Lost Ark and the Last Crusade. Why do we chase after relics? Part of the reason is because we are caught up in our own desires. We hope to use the relic for our own purpose, whatever those purposes may be: perhaps to open a direct channel to God. Or barter the relic for fame and fortune. Or attempt to exercise control over the world’s destiny. But always there is some ulterior motive.
In Part II, we will continue this quest as we accompany our players on their own journeys. But understand that journeys don’t necessarily unfold as planned. They often take unexpected twists and turns. They can bring you into contact with others, contact that involves ever more surprises. Please understand that these are not just plot twists, some literary device to build and sustain suspense.
This is the way of all journeys. Of all quests. Even the story of your own life. You can choose to play it safe. You can attempt to keep Life under tight control so that nothing untoward happens. Only… Life is the unexpected. If you are unwilling to be surprised, you will kill the magic in your life. And if you kill that magic… Life will be a dreary affair.
I will leave you until we meet again with this reminder: Wherever your journey takes you, the ultimate destination is the same—to come home.
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