Chapter Forty-seven

Suna wasn’t sure how long she had slept. It could have been four hours or twelve. She couldn’t remember a time when sleep had drawn her in so deeply. She stretched her arms and yawned, feeling the soft sheets from her youth caress her skin. Her room smelled the same. Like the desert, like water, like heaven. She rolled over and resisted the urge to fall back asleep. They’d had a tumultuous journey since leaving Sedona, and she was tired.

She slipped her slippers and housecoat on, tying the sash as she shuffled into the kitchen. She filled the teapot under the tap and heard a voice that made her heart glow.

“Suna,” K’ete-t said.

He had taught her to love with the heart of heaven and the might of the sun. No matter how much she matured, how versed in the world she became, how much mastery over her thoughts and emotions she developed, K’ete-t was the exception. She couldn’t control the emotion that rose within her, the sheer joy that overwhelmed her when she turned around and saw his face.

“Seuseungnim!” She dropped the tea kettle into the sink and folded herself into his arms. The incredible challenges she had endured were forgotten, and her soul rested in a way that it only did when she was with her mentor. His skin smelled the same, floral, and held the same plumpness of an infant that it always had. No matter how many years passed, how white his hair became, his native face remained luminous. Nothing makes the skin glow quite like the light of God.

He patted her hair. “I was worried about you.”

“I know, Seuseungnim. I’m sorry, we have faced many troubles since we last spoke.”

“You are here now,” he shushed reassuringly.

“At last,” she breathed. “I have missed you.”

“I’m always with you,” he assured her.

“It’s not the same,” she said.

He laughed. She could practically hear the twinkle

in his eye.

She pulled out of the embrace, wiped the tears from her cheeks and pressed her hand to her heart. It was warm with gratitude. “I have much to tell you.”

He held her hand and led her to sit at the small table in the dining room.

“I find myself in a lot of trouble,” she confided.

“It’s bad.”

“Tell me about it,” he said, furrowing his brow.

“The others and I joined together at Bell Rock and activated the vow. Ever since that moment, we have been wrapped in controversy and opposition. Our reputations are ruined, the BOS Resort is under attack, two of my associates are under investigation and law enforcement is looking for us. The church, the press, disaster, every trial imaginable has come at us from all directions, each one more despairing and urgent than the last. We haven’t had a moment of peace nor have we been immune from any tragedy. We can’t even catch our breath before the next catastrophe strikes. And our vow, which should be joyous, weighs heavily on my heart because I’m tired, Seuseungnim. Time is running out, and I’m not sure that we will make it against such odds. It’s too much,” she said, revealing her despair to her teacher.

He put his hand on her shoulder. “Breathe, my

little Suna.”

She took a shaky breath and exhaled. Her breath scarcely reached the top of her lungs. She had remained stoic through all of the tribulations. She had braced for the storm, but now, in the presence of such warmth, she could relax enough to realize how much damage had been done to her spirit in the process. What people fail to realize about enlightened beings is that they are sensitive. They feel tragedy deeper than most, though they may seem unwavering because of their strength.

K’ete-t considered all that she had shared. “You can handle whatever may come your way,” he said, smiling. “Remember your ancestry; you have strength in your blood.”

“I know,” she exhaled, slumping her shoulders. “Sedona used to feel like my home but now . . . .” She shook her head. “It feels like the place where I will die.”

“You must not be afraid of death, little Suna,” he said. “I tell you again that death doesn’t exist. It’s an illusion.”

“So is all of this,” she laughed, indicating the world around them. “I know that everything is an illusion. But it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Illusions are mutable, changeable. You have the power to change the entire dream for all of humanity. Imagine it, Suna,” he encouraged. “Imagine the moment when your little soul that has traveled so far, endured so much, gets to witness every single human on the planet remember the heaven that exists within them. The trouble that you face pales in comparison to the glory that we are to witness. It’s our destiny, and we have no choice but to complete it.”

In her memory, she was transported back to the day that she met K’ete-t, when she had buckled her seatbelt and he shared his vision for a healthy humanity. His enthusiasm had been infectious then, just as it was now.

“You are right,” she conceded. “The universe has supported us with many miracles. I do have hope, Seuseungnim. But I’m still tired.”

“You have a full five minutes to either rest, cry, or complain. You can choose the way that you wish to release the stagnant emotions that heavy your heart. But after that, you must recover your spirit,” he said, rising from his seat and patting her shoulder. “Your time starts now.”

She laughed, giving in to his easy mood. She rose from her seat. “I think that what I need the most right now is a cup of tea with my Seuseungnim.”