The gong summoned the gray-robed acolytes into the temple’s largest practice chamber. Completely windowless, it was lit by lanterns and torches that gave off a rich, orange-yellow light, and caused shadows to constantly flicker and move on the rough-hewn stone walls. Each acolyte entered and spread out until they were evenly spaced in a grid pattern throughout the chamber, some fifty of them in all. All showed the calm confidence of those who were about to do something done many times before, although today was a special day, thought Chandi. Today the cohort would be initiated into the next level of enlightenment, marking the end of their time as acolytes and beginning their induction as protector-learners, or simply learners, as they were more commonly called, each training in the hopes of one day attaining the status of protector, if found worthy. As acolytes, none of them knew exactly what was expected of a protector, although all the protectors Chandi had seen or met, such as her teachers, emanated powerful auras of strength and capability. Today, she and her cohort would shed their gray robes and don the yellow robes of learners. Fully-fledged protectors wore deep orange robes while in the temple, and Chandi wondered if she too, would one day earn the right to wear them.
A second tone of the gong signaled the start of the morning martial arts session, their final one as acolytes. In unison, the cohort began their practice forms, the same way they started each and every day. Precise, powerful, each movement an acolyte made was identical to any other of his brothers and sisters. Punches, kicks, blocks were all executed with precisely the same angle, every movement beginning and ending at the same moment. If one were to ignore the individualistic features of each acolyte, such as height, hair both fair and dark, or the myriad of skin coloring, the effect was the same as if one person performed the moves surrounded by mirrors.
Chandi went through the motions of the form without conscious thought. She had done them so many times it did not require her full attention to perform them with complete accuracy. Totally relaxed, she reflected on the fifteen years that had passed since she was brought to the temple as a child of ten years old. She had known all the brothers and sisters in the chamber with her now since the very beginning. However, only a handful of them had begun their training the same time as she, and the rest were all older by varying degrees. There was no one in the chamber with her that had arrived at the temple after she began her training, meaning of all the acolytes in the temple, she was considered among the fastest to reach this stage. Time spent as an acolyte did not come to an end marked by a finite period of time, but by the speed at which the acolyte improved and demonstrated skills in all trainings, both martial and mental. Some remained as acolytes their entire lives, forever wearing the gray robes, and there was no shame in that. Even the most common acolyte could be considered a master in some form of martial art, and most were masters in several, from jujitsu to tae kwon-do to Chinese kung fu. Chandi and the others in the chamber had been tested and selected one week ago as the acolytes who were deemed worthy to move on to the next level. As one, the cohort completed the final move of the practice form and stood in a rest stance, waiting to be addressed by the abbot, Pattaranopong Gamonsugasool, 145th abbot of the Temple Clan.
The old abbot moved forward on the dais, where he had been standing with the entire complement of the temple’s teachers, and with a grace and speed that belied his age, sat down on the floor in his gray robes, which were lined with both yellow and orange, representing he had come full circle, from acolyte, to learner, to protector, and back to acolyte, an acolyte that served all of them, and the cause which they all served. He gestured and as one the cohort sat where they stood. Chandi remained expressionless but looked with great fondness at the abbot. When she was brought to the temple she had been an orphan, living on the streets, but a protector who for some reason considered her deserving plucked her away from that life and brought her here. Since then, her rescuer had become abbot, and had been both father and mother to her, filling her mind and soul with his wisdom and his teachings, nurturing her as she had never been before. She loved him more than anyone in the world and would gladly die for him without hesitation if needed. In this, she knew, she was probably no different than anyone in her cohort, or the entire temple, for that matter.
The abbot spoke, “My children. Today I am pleased to see you all granted the yellow robe. It is a symbol of your achievement, and at the same time, an indication you still have much to learn. Tomorrow, you will begin your training as protector-learners, and although you do not know it yet, I know, and your teachers know, you all have the ability to succeed. Whether you do or not, however, is completely up to you. To achieve the orange robe, you will need to open your mind, accept the improbable, and ignore the impossible. Some of you will remain learners forever, and others of you will eventually wear orange. Time has no meaning in this. You may be as old as I before you receive the next robe, or you may be only a few years older than you are now.” With a wry smile, and suppressed laughter in his dancing eyes, the abbot continued, “But since time immemorial every learner has had the same question, so I will answer before you ask. Five years is the shortest time any learner has ever worn yellow. “
With a wave of his hand, the teachers, who had moved down from the dais while the abbot was speaking and carrying neatly folded yellow robes in their arms, moved from acolyte to acolyte and presented them the robes that made them protector-learners. “Rest now, my learners,” the abbot continued, as the last robe was issued, “I am proud of all of you. Today marks a new phase of your lives, and you should take some time to reflect and prepare for it. Meet Master Song here after the mid-day meal. I will leave you now.”
The cohort stood as the abbot exited, bowing in respect as the teachers filed out after him through the opening behind the dais. As soon as the last teacher disappeared through the doorway, the cohort cheered. Some leaped up and clapped their mates on their backs, hugging and laughing at the relief of achieving such a milestone, while others sat quietly, or weeping tears of joy. Still others immediately ripped off their gray robes and began putting on the new yellow robes, faces split by smiles and laughing in delight. Chandi slowly stood, a deep, warm glow inside her, filling her with a feeling of pure contentment. As she looked around the chamber at her brothers and sisters, she wondered what the afternoon would bring.
***
Master Song stood in front of the attentive class of new learners seated on the floor. He looked to be in his mid-forties, with a stern countenance that belied his tendency to occasionally crack a dry joke, sometimes so dry it took a moment to register that it was even a joke. Chandi did not know him very well, as he was not previously one of the regular acolyte teachers, though sometimes he did take over a training session now and again if one of the normal teachers was ill, or away on temple business. In his deep orange robes, Master Song projected a sense of supreme confidence, but at the same time, one could tell the confidence was not without basis, as he also emanated a strong undercurrent of power. Chandi suspected Master Song would never have any trouble backing up anything he said.
“Welcome, learners, to your first training session. Many of you are still, no doubt, wondering what you will learn, and what it requires to become a protector. Rather than explaining first, I will simply demonstrate.” Master Song glanced at the front row of learners, including Chandi, “All of you. Select any weapon of your choice and surround me.”
Chandi and five of her fellows ran to the wall on one side of the chamber, where all types of sharp and blunt edged weapons commonly used during martial arts training were kept. Chandi selected a bo staff, her favorite weapon, although like everyone else, she was an expert in several. Other learners chose nunchaku, escrima sticks, a spear, and two swords. They quickly formed a ring around Master Song and waited.
“Attack me. Now!” All six learners struck with their weapons at Master Song, and all six stopped their weapons inches away from his body, for the master had made no move to protect himself at all. “Ah, you’re afraid of hurting me, yes? Let me give you some encouragement, then!”
Master Song struck at their weapons with his bare hands, moving so fast it appeared they were all pushed back at once. All six of the learners began trying to strike him in earnest. At first the master looked like he was deflecting almost all of their blows, an open hand pushing away her bo, a forearm sliding along a sword strike, a foot pinning down a thrusted spear. Soon, it became apparent some of the blows were actually landing on Master Song, but strangely, he gradually blocked less and less, until he was standing completely still, while all six learners landed blow after blow on all parts of his body, but seemingly unable to injure or affect him in any way.
Each time her bo struck Master Song, Chandi felt as if she were hitting a stone wall, immoveable, unyielding. So hard were the blows, she could feel her staff starting to splinter from the impacts. Her colleagues, she saw, were not having any better luck. All were starting to look a bit winded. Master Song, on the other hand, simply stood calmly, a peaceful expression on his face. Eventually, he signaled them to stop, and gestured for them to sit back down.
”Master, how …?” Master Song raised his hand to quiet the learner’s question.
“Observe.” He signaled to someone and the lights began to dim. As the darkness intensified, a faint glow surrounding all of Master Song’s body became visible. It covered him from head to toe, with what seemed like to Chandi to be a uniform thickness around half a centimeter or so, and golden in color. With a start Chandi realized the glow had been there the entire time, but just hadn’t been visible with the lights on.
“What you see surrounding me,” intoned Master Song, “… is what we call Li. In the form you see it now, less than a finger’s width, none of the manual weapons on the wall can harm me. Li has been practiced by our temple for thousands of years. It is a manifestation of mind, and soul. You cannot think it into existence, you must feel it. Those who earn the orange robes do so by mastering the ability to control it, and to use it. This is what you will learn as protector-learners.”
“Where does the Li come from, master?” Chandi asked.
“Ah, that is a simple question, Chandi. It comes from inside each one of us. Every human being on this planet is born with some degree of Li. Most people’s ability is so small, it can never manifest itself, and serves no useful purpose. A very few others, like all of you, were born with a high degree of Li, but would most likely never have learned to use it, unless shown how. Still others, though very rare, can spontaneously manifest massive amounts of Li in moments of great stress, for a very short time. But since they do not realize what they are doing, or how they did it, it usually never happens again, no matter how hard the person tries. Think of the miraculous soldier who ran through heavy enemy fire without a scratch on him, or the skydiver who fell five thousand feet and lived after his parachute failed to open. Not luck, but Li.”
“Master, how are we to learn to use Li?” one learner asked eagerly.
“All in good time, all in good time, my son,” replied Master Song, waving his hand up and down in a “calm down” gesture. “We start tomorrow. Tonight, I want all of you to meditate deeply, on what your life has been so far, what it was like before you came to the temple, and most importantly, a time when you felt the greatest fear, despair or shame. You will need this for tomorrow’s lesson.”
“Master, who was the first person to learn how to use Li?” Chandi asked.
“Again, all in good time, Chandi. You are all dismissed.” And with that, Master Song turned on his heel and left the room. The learners quickly bowed as the master exited, left with only their own thoughts while trying to absorb what they had just witnessed.