Kudai Kam and Saosh Yant came up to the top of the mountain, which gave a magnificent view of the surroundings. Having wiped off the sweat that covered their eyes, they breathed in the fresh mountain air and stood, relieved, in silent contemplation. It seemed that the majestic snowy mountain peaks were very near, within reach of the hand. They hung over the mountain top where our travelers were standing, but at the same time, were far away. It was an ineffable sight. Adorned with the eternal hoary snowcaps, they seemed to be away from all that hustle and bustle that was out there, miles away, and just did not exist. The time itself seemed to have slowed down and was flowing at a leisurely pace. And all the events are going incredibly slowly. Really slowly. Delightfully slowly. Just standing still. But what did the events mean there, anyway? ETERNITY! PIECE and GRANDEUR – that was all what the mountains lived by. They had been granted a whole Eternity, so they simply couldn’t pay attention to trifles. THEY COULDN’T! And they surely weren’t going to do that.
Below, between the mountains, spread flowering green valleys. Furrowed by tumultuous, roaring and babbling rivers that flowed down from the mountain glaciers, they were the very opposite to the peaks. Life was pulsing through them! There was permanent noise coming from the toiling water. Just like in the market square. The water didn’t stop even for a minute. With a persistence characteristic of it only, the water was cutting through rock. What else did it have to do? Nothing limited its time and possibilities. And it had as much fun as it could. It abraded the rocks, the cliffs of the gorge and the slopes of the steep waterfalls. Altered the general outline of the gorges. Split the gigantic rocks routinely, without ado. It crept into the tiny cracks in order to freeze at night, and to thaw out in the morning and carry away with it the fragments of the colossus. The water was busy day and night. Without cease. And yet it did its job. Over the years, no, over the centuries, the mountains became lower, smaller, vanishing into oblivion. But that didn’t seem to worry them much. They kept on communing with Eternity.
Our travelers were admiring all that splendor and were delighted to imbibe the fresh air. Pleasant warm wind was rising from the valleys, bringing the fragrance of the flowering meadows. Blending with the cool of the eternal snowcaps, it created the feeling of freshness, enthusiasm and freedom. You can never mistake this state for another. Everyone who has been here knows it. Because it occurs in the only place on earth. IN THE MOUNTAINS! NOWHERE ELSE BUT IN THE MOUNTAINS!
In the center of the mountain stood a stone pyramid Obo. Marking the place of Power, it slowly grew with every traveler that came here. Beside it was a fire-pit, edged with big blackened stones. There also was an altar of sacrifice, on which blood sacrifices to the spirits had once been made. Not far off, there rose a tree of Power, a lonely pine, small and sturdy, hung with colorful Kudaimi. The vagrant wind skittishly ruffled these patches of cloth, trying to take them off the crooked bushy branches. But for some reason it couldn’t do that. There weren’t many of them. Some had lost color and were frayed with age. Some of them were about to turn to dust but continued to hold firmly on the branches.
The travelers came to the tree.
“See the ribbons – the konas?” said Kudai Kam pointing to them.
“Ah,” Saosh Yant waved his hand, “people put them on the trees in the cities even.”
“That’s bad,” Kudai Kam shook his head reproachfully.
“But why?”
“Since a kona connects the person to the place where he’s put it, these people establish the connection not with a place of Power.”
“With what then?”
There was anxiety and surprise in Saosh Yant’s voice.
“With a place of vanity and distress. There you have it!”
“Oh, dear!”
“Besides, the man didn’t make any efforts to come to that place. He just took a taxi to get there. What kind of feat was that? Did he surpass himself? Or was it a display of heroism? It was just a formality. He hasn’t overcome anything in himself. He hasn’t sacrificed a thing. Then he can receive no Power or protection.”
“Wow! Then the tradition of putting little padlocks on the bridges and along sea-fronts also has a bad influence on the newlywed?”
“Of course it does. You can see how many divorces we have now.”
“Oh, dear! I didn’t realize.”
“But here is a little difference.”
“What is it?”
“Now tear a band off your shirt and hang it on the tree,” said the shaman.
“Ugh! Why the shirt?” Saosh Yant wrinkled his nose, perplexed. “It’s a sweaty mess and it’s dirty. It needs washing first.”
“It’s good that it’s sweaty. You don’t need to wash anything. What is this ribbon hung here for?”
“What for?”
“To have the connection with the place of Power. But to create this connection, the kona must be made of your undershirt soaked with your emanations, your sweat. With your Kut. In this case, a part of yourself will remain here. And between you and this place, some kind of invisible ‘radio communication’ is created, through which the energy of this place will always flow to you. The more of such konas you leave in various places of Power, the better it is for you. The more energy you will be able to attract.”
“That’s great!” rejoiced the young man.
“But, of course, simply to climb the mountain is not enough. Any more or less trained tourist can do it. And if he simply leaves a piece of his dirty shirt here, it won’t do any good. He has to know what rituals to perform in order to gain the Ayami’s favor.”
“And different coins that are left in sacred places – is it a formality too? Must they be impregnated with the emanations?”
“Exactly. Otherwise there’s no point in leaving them there. It won’t grant you the contact with the spirit of place. You must leave something of value. Something that is valuable and dear to you.”
“Like what?”
“Well, it can be any of your old things you have a very strong connection with. It may be inexpensive, but dear to you. Something that evokes a lot of memories and emotions. Then it will establish a good connection with the Ayami of this place. And it will always give you good aid and protection.”
While the Great Shaman was taking out his drum, Saosh Yant said a prayer and tore a band off his shirt. Then, performing the ritual given to him by Kudai Kam, he tied the kona onto the tree of Power.
