The Emperor's Carp
A shared meditation message by Ian Brown

ften, during mediation, I'll find myself going on inner journeys through the subconscious, to lands and adventures that seem remarkably real and convincing. During many of these journeys, I'll be given lessons or messages which will be helpful in the waking world; or I may simply experience healing or shifting of energy. In this case, it was a journey with a subtle lesson.

      Many of my journeys are to a particular valley, where I'll encounter people and other animals who are guides for lessons of various natures. Amongst these many characters are three shaven-headed monks, dressed in robes of red and gold. Although essentially ageless, I can see a subtle difference in their relative ages and in their wisdom. On this particular occasion, it was the youngest of the three monks whom I met. He has a gentle air of mischief about him.

      I drifted into meditation and soon found myself walking along the upper rim of the valley, by the temple. The three monks were awaiting me, and, after silently bowing their heads and smiling in greeting, the youngest of the three led me further along the path.

      We walked along, by the valley's edge, the valley to my right, the sunlight warm upon my shoulders, and a soft music playing in the air, as it so often does there, until we came to a narrow pathway which I'd not encountered before. The monk led the way to the left, along this narrow pathway, until we came to a wall, built of large, rounded stones, with a circular gateway leading through.

      The monk led the way through the gateway, and I saw that we were in a small, sunlit garden. The stone was smooth-worn underfoot, and bright flowers grew in rocky crevices and small natural beds. To the far side was a pool of almost still water, with a gentle fountain playing to one side. Beyond the pool were naturally dwarfed trees growing in the rock, and a further rocky wall behind. In the distance, the land rose beyond forests to mountains, so that, with a forced perspective from the small trees of the garden, the outer landscape seemed to come right into the garden.

      The monk sat down upon the broad stone rim of the naturally raised pond, and I joined him, gazing down into the cool water.

      There were fish in there: large golden carp. Well, mainly golden, although some of them had hints of other colours about them, red, blue and even green, all swimming lazily about in the pond. There was something indescribably special about them - something otherworldly, unaccountably precious, almost as if I were watching angels swimming in the water. The monk raised his head and gazed into the distance, over my right shoulder, and, turning to follow his gaze, I noticed a broad, clear lake in the valley, fed by a gently flowing river; and I knew that this lake was also filled with fish: bright, many-coloured, marvellous fish, like the carp in the pond, yet far more ethereal and enchanting. At the same time, I knew that the lake belonged to the emperor, who was a brightly coloured, benign dragon.

      The monks very rarely speak, for words cannot truly describe experiences in the valley; but now he spoke, quietly and clearly.

      "When the fish are grown and ready," he explained. "They go to the lake, to live with the emperor."

      I nodded, looking at the fish again, and thinking of the even brighter, more angelic fish in the lake, and realised just how extra-special these fish were. And, trying to find a way to express how deeply impressed I was, I struggled to find words, and ended up expressing the feelings in a very mundane form.

      Trying to acknowledge their remarkable nature, I rather clumsily asked, "They're beautiful fish. How much are they worth?"

      And the monk smiled and simply replied, "Ask the fish."

BACK