93. Dance of the Fireflies

“Kyra, let’s walk on the beach. I want to show you something.”

“Now Papa, you said you were going to tell me what you wanted me to know and I’m going to hold you to it.”

“I will child. Just think of this as show and tell,” laughed Papa. “I think you will enjoy the show. Look over to your left, into the trees. Do you see it?”

Kyra squinted, not knowing exactly what she was looking for. “Afraid I don’t see anything but shadows.”

“Try this,” said Papa. “Close your eyes. Now ever so slowly start to open them. As you open your eyes stop as soon as you see light.”

Kyra closed her eyes feeling much like a young girl about to be given a present. The moment was, for lack of a better explanation, delicious. Her body trembled in step with the neurons dancing in her mind. Papa was taking her through a basic Zing Tao technique of tone and light differentiation. The idea, create awareness of movement, of light and how it changes with one’s view. The lesson, that all things change, that nothing stays the same, was one of the first that Papa had ever taught her. Why, she wondered, was he coming back to such a basic understanding?

As her eyes slowly opened just a hint of green and then red light appeared. Moving rapidly in graceful and elegant curves the light brightened and then trailed off only to reappear brighter than before. There appeared to be twenty or thirty separate points of light, all moving, all changing.

“Oh my,” said Kyra.

“Slowly open your eyes all the way and the lights will remain in focus.”

“They’re beautiful Papa, but what are they?”

“Fireflies.”

“Fireflies?”

“Not just any fireflies Kyra. You’ve never seen one’s like this before because there are no other ones like this on Hyneria.”

“They’re beautiful Papa, but I’m not sure I understand?”

Papa smiled, placing his hand on her shoulder. “Do you feel the warmth in my hand?”

“Yes Papa.”

“Feels a bit warmer than normal doesn’t it?”

“Yes.”

“Feel the warmth start to flood the rest of your body?”

“Yes.”

“Curious?”

“You are killing me Papa. Spit it out. Tell me what happened on the bridge. Tell me what is happening now and tell me what this has to do with these exotic fireflies.”

“What you feel and what you see is Love,” said Papa, fully knowing she wouldn’t know what to make of that statement.

Kyra’s eyes moved quickly back and forth across Papa’s face looking for some clue. The tri moonrise cast the most interesting blend of warm and cool light and features not normally seen stood out. Papa’s face, every crease, every wrinkle bespoke of adventure and lore, of history and love. Kyra could never quite remember seeing another face so rich in interest.

“Kyra, lift your arm. Now tell me, how did you do that?”

“I suppose telling you my mind told my muscles what to do is not the right answer.”

“Kyra that answer is as perfectly right as telling me the notes make the music. Yet,” Papa paused.

“There’s always a yet isn’t there,” smiled Kyra.

“Yes my child, there is always a yet,” Papa smiled back with a wink, “although this yet is perhaps the most important yet of all.”

“So it’s a matter of yets then. Got it. Next lesson,” chided Kyra.

“The force that moves your arm is the same force that raises the moons. Love Kyra. Forget everything you think you know about Love. The warmth you felt—Love. The lights you see—Love. The space between the notes--”

“Yes, Love,” said Kyra. “Papa, can I tell you something?”

“Please.”

“You are doing a lousy job on this lesson. I have no idea what you are talking about,” said Kyra in her most mock serious voice.

Papa almost fell over with laughter. “No worries. Few do. Few are able to comprehend and even fewer are able to play in the fields of Love. You are one of those few.”

“Okay, so what exactly does that mean?”

“Kyra, here it is as clearly as I can say it. Love is the energy, the life-force, the glue if you will that holds everything together, the sets everything in motion, that keeps everything moving. Where you see movement, you see Love. Let me say that again, where you see movement you see Love.”

“But everything moves Papa. Nothing stands still.”

“Exactly!

“Okay, so we are back to exactly,” laughed Kyra.

“Give me your hands again. Feel that?”

“Yes.”

“That is Love. Here, you try.”

“Try what?”

“Hold my hands, hold them in Love just like I did.”

Kyra took Papa’s hands in hers. She focused, concentrated. Nothing. Just hands holding hands. No warmth, no tingle, no sense of peace and calm.

“I don’t know how to do what you did Papa. Is there some trick I’m missing?”

“Missing yes, trick no. Kyra, Love is a force, without it there is nothing. That force is as real and tangible as you and I. As much as I can reach out and touch you, I can also reach out and touch Love. Do you understand what I am saying?”

“I heard the words but I don’t know what it means to reach out and touch Love, assuming you are not speaking metaphorically.”

“Ahhh, now we are getting somewhere. No metaphor here. There is nothing abstract about Love. The idea, as most understand it, is not Love, can never be Love, will never be Love. Love is not an idea anymore than you or I are ideas. Okay, let me spell it out as clearly as I can. Love is real. Everything you and I are, everything you see and don’t see, everything that is, is Love.”

Kyra stood in the dim light. Papa’s face looked as if there was a glow about it. The more he talked about this thing he was calling Love the more animated he seemed to get.

“Kyra, you have the ability, just as I do, to reach out and physically touch the depth of reality. Do you understand what I am saying? You, not everyone, but you have the ability to change the course, the flow of events. The very life-force, the very thing that makes orange orange or blue blue, you have the ability to swim in that current.”

“I don’t see—”

“Not now child, you aren’t there yet, but you have the ability and few are given that gift. It took me many years of close tutelage from Ji himself before I knew what I was doing. Your gifts, my child, are greater than mine.”

“So what do these fireflies have to do with all this?” asked Kyra.

“Ahh, I was wondering when you were going to ask. They don’t exist on the normal plane of light. There is a wavelength reserved just for Love. These fireflies live on that wavelength. Only those with the gift can see them. And you know what Kyra?”

“What Papa?”

“You are the first Hynerian, besides myself, to ever see them.”