The Coming Storm

By D.R.Damma

Uriel Gould, a recovering drug addict, plummets to his lowest point in life and births an idea called the Method. This Method associates two methodologies, one scientific and one spiritual. The symbiotic nature of the model sparks the birth of the dharma collective consciousness. This discovery morphs into a dissertation that the City College of New York academic defense committee rejects.

In the parallel deva universe, on the afro-futurist planet of Bhuva, southern practitioner Refu observes this Method during his Earth research and tells his teacher, Johari, about this astounding idea. Johari and Refu studied Uriel’s Method and read the dissertation. Johari convinces a northern adherent, Rama, that Uriel could be the Maitreya Buddha prophesied by the historical Buddha Gotama.

The three succeed in bringing Uriel to Bhuva, but this is when the trouble starts.

• Language: English
• Publisher: D.R.Damma
• Release date: May 21, 2022
• ISBN: 9781005015947

D.R.Damma

My name is Dathane Turner. Holding a masters in Psychology and Won Buddhism, I am a lover of science, fantasy, and Dharma and have been roleplaying in RPG games, on and off, for 35 years. I have been to Iraqi as a military intelligence analyst and hold a certification in Holacracy practice. I love to explore science fiction and a thought experiment examining what if we updated our scientific method to include an inner dimension which is something Kurt Godel, the greatest logician of all time, advises. What new kind of wise and compassionate scientific world would we live that redefines the sacred spirituality of reality and allows Us to be the chosen one to come. This is what I hope to explore in this Dharmapunk series.

Book preview

Anuvadin

Chapter 1

Teaching

Ssssssssshhhhsssssssss.

On a planet called Bhuva in an alternate universe, a wooden machete blade scrapes across the white sandy shore. On a beach near the town of Sakti on Anuvadin, two men circle each other. Refu contemplates Arhat Johari's possible ways of attack. The faint waft of the spicy floral scent of orchid calms Refu’s mind and softens his shoulders in ready stillness as the weapon’s point resonates the warm ground like a dragon’s claw. As the Arhat circles, Refu curves backward with balanced steps. Johari’s dark skin shines like obsidian stone, contrasting Refu’s caramel complexion. Both men look wiry and cut underneath their loose clothing. Refu’s earth-tone Dubaku fighting attire ripples with the breeze. His blades cross to provide a protective shield against a sudden thrash of wood and force.

Clang. Clang. Click. Click. Click.

Arhat Johari swings with measured precision, testing Refu’s defense with the first two strikes, perceiving a possible opening. Johari strikes in succession to Refu’s right hip and side areas, which he defends with his blade.

You are improving, Johari smiles.

The bald Arhat backs away to reconsider. Loosening his stiff wrist, he rotates the wooden machete while pointing the other to keep a reasonable distance between him and Refu. Refu's shaven head glistens in the noon sun as his breath slows to a concentrated pace. Refu readies himself to pounce on Johari like a cat on a mouse, then pauses, causing Johari to realize it too late.

Refu is on the attack! Johari steps back with eyes wide and steady. Refu strikes but finds the angle cumbersome to perform a follow thrust with the left side, so he spins to catch Johari off guard on the same side.

The ploy works.

Thwap! The blade pangs the shoulder, triggering Johari to wince from the strike. Refu holds the wood sword out in an offensive posture as Johari nurses the arm where the blow landed.

You're aggressive this morning. Uncharacteristic of you, Refu. Johari’s smile contorts to a wince as he still manages to keep his guard engaged.

That is the first time I struck you in all these years, Refu reflects.

You're gaining mastery of the blade. Johari holds up the weapon, signaling a break in the match.

Good for you. You refused to break through an offensive posture for the longest time. Johari nods.

I thought that it would be useless to do so. I suppose that was my mistake. Refu grins.

Johari grins hearing this comment. Let’s go back, with a tilt of the head.

Both drop their machetes, placing the tips of their blades in the sand, closing their eyes to feel the ocean wind caress their bodies.

Both men begin to walk towards the Itara temple when they hear a snarl from behind them.

Leaving so soon, seeker of the Maitreya. The buddha who will solve all our problems. Muujiza snickers as her arms stretch out to the sky, walking towards them.

Muujiza arrives with two male followers in tow. She is a chiseled, young, dusky woman as her dreaded hair with shells and silver Kadvana adornments swings as she walks. Ornate scarification patterns cover her face, ample bottom and hips, indicating her devoted servitude to the devas.

Muujiza wears thick brown porous woven pants allowing the needed air to pass through them during the hot times. Her hemp top covering only her breasts, her woven straps tied behind her back.

Refu, you choose to train with this weak starry-eyed teacher? As an Aryasattva, you know the power of the devas, and yet your people do not truly commit. And the Itara, looking at Johari, they claim to focus on the wise ordinary things of life, but it seems to me that their fundamental practice is unwise.

Johari steps into the space between the two. Muujiza places her less dominant left foot forward as her left-hand touches her stomach inches from her machete on her right hip. Refu notices her airy balance; her front foot touches the ground as her muscles hold no tension or strain in her body.

There is no need for this, Muujiza, Johari says.

Refu steps back a little and picks up a small case, pressing it twice as he opens it to pinch his frameless computerized visors to his nose.

Hey! Muujiza, with a lightning reaction, draws her machete. What are you doing?!

Johari matches her action, crossing her blade with his own. On me, Muujiza! She looks at Johari's wooden blade for a moment. She then withdraws from the aggressive posture, placing her machete back in its holder. Johari's eyes constrict as he sees her take off her scabbard and belt and place it in the sand, so the hilt entrance does not get grains inside the sheath.

Wood against metal? That wouldn’t be fair, Johari, though your very tradition is one of weakness.

Johari exhales deeply, I, respectfully, disagree, dropping the wooden blade in the sand. Why don’t we stop this?

Stop the lesson, great teacher? Muujiza smiles as her back foot nestles securely on the beach as the crystal grains slide between her toes. From a non-attack posture, she employs a lightning-quick engolo roundhouse strike and cuts across Johari's face as sand sprays into his eyes. The metallic taste of blood fills Johari’s mouth. Refu rushes to assist, but Johari stops him with an outstretched arm.

As his back leg is bent, the sole of his right foot touching the earth, his front leg straightens towards her. Johari rises slowly from the sitting position, with the front leg facing Muujiza, never taking his eyes off her. He rises as his thigh and calf muscles striate from contraction, bringing him to a standing posture. His arms cross, holding the typical X defensive stance.

Muujiza's eyes drink in his form from head to foot. She lunges with an elbow as her arm poises over Johari’s head. The expected counter, from Johari, is a block as both arms hold an X overhead to block the elbow, opening the upper torso and chest for a strike.

Johari does not take the gambit.

Instead, Johari allows the elbow strike to swing down as Johari’s entire body descends to the sandy beach, rolling away from the strike. When Muujiza rises, he rolls towards her, swinging low for a well-poised leg sweep, causing her to fall on her back.

Johari could have followed with a devastating stamp strike to the sternum, but instead, he drills the sand just to the side of her body.

You are good, Muujiza.

Muujiza rubs the index and thumb of both hands together, then pounds both fists into the sand, causing her entire body to rise into a standing position as an invisible force lifts her whole figure from the ground to her feet.

Refu's eyes enlarge at the employment of subtle bestowment. Before Refu could profess unfairness, Muujiza rubs her big toe and middle toe together. This action ignites her scarring on her left foot, causing them to glow and snake their way up like glimmering ants, traveling the flesh groove patterns up her leg. One can barely see the illuminated scar patterns through her porous pants as Muujiza stomps her foot, causing a seismic ripple to knock Johari and Refu on their backs.

After a nimble cartwheel, Muujiza closes the distance between her and Johari. Muujiza's foot lands just an inch from Johari’s nose, halting the killing blow.

And thus ends the lesson, Muujiza scowls. She walks backward, allowing Johari to rise.

What lesson? You cheated!! Refu demands, scrambling on his feet. Johari, brushing off his Dubaku, looks at Muujiza with a wary eye.

Did I? Muujiza cocks her head to her side. Is that the lesson?

Above them, a screech sounds from a griffin over the ocean waves. The party sees distant wings from afar. As fliers in the sky inch closer, the party below notices the razor beak ready to tear flesh as its eagle eyes veer towards them. When its large wings press the wind, the bird-lion body lurches up from the motion; its rider steadies the reins of the steed to land on the sand. The griffin’s clawed hind feet dip into the beach sand, arousing a soft breeze upon its arrival.

Another Protectorate on a black dragon mount from above descends below as the griffin and its rider rest. The mount's leathery hide shimmers in the noonday sun as its large membranous wings swim through the air to brace its landing for its skier. Its large black claws and huge thigh muscles touch the warm sand, trembling in contact with the beach as it steadies itself.

The northern rider, so dark that he glistens cerulean in the sun, displays ornate engravings on his face, arms, and legs, while the southern dragon rider does not show any markings. Both wear large brim hats and matching uniforms dark green in color. Their pants droop loosely in the crotch area, giving them maximum leg freedom. Refu notices the pants ripple in the breeze, reminding him of his own culture's interest in breathable sun-shielding fabrics. Their tops are open, and they wear mesh skin-close shirts underneath their dark-green light dashiki tunics.

Refu observes the striking difference between the two warriors as the dragon rider wears handheld laser pistols while the griffin rider displays only a machete. Refu drinks in each rider’s gestures. He knows they need only to say a word, and either the griffin or the dragonsteed could tear them apart.

We saw everything, the Dragonrider says as he taps his frameless computer visors with his index finger and nods at Refu. Muujiza notices the acknowledgment, curious how the polluted Protectorate could know what occurred without bestowment. Muujiza examines Refu.

Refu wore his visor as well. Muujiza growls, Clever, between her teeth.

Muujiza, you will receive disciplinary actions by the council chamber at Valdhi, the griffin rider says.

Johari pats Refu on his shoulder as he nods and smirks at the Southern Protectorate.

This subtle acknowledgment stirs the Northern Protectorate's face into a grimace towards Johari.

Let’s go, the griffin rider demurs Johari’s acknowledgment. The rider yanks the griffin to its left and taps its belly with his heels commanding it to fly. Both riders launch into the sky.

As Muujiza and her students walk into Cest Forest towards Northern Anuvadin, Johari and Refu tread back to the Itara residence, allowing the surging surf to quiet their minds. Refu observes Johari’s smile through his bruised lips, making his neck hairs stand on end with fury, yet he remains silent.

Johari’s student allows the island smells to ensnare his senses. He turns his head back south to reminisce about the land beyond the sea dividing him from the scentless desert of his ancestral home: Kubera.

When were you last in Kubera? Johari asks as if he read his mind.

It's been years.

You should go. Your homeland holds a deep beauty all its own. Johari grins in Refu’s direction.

Refu nods. The Citta adept watches his footprints leave a sattva impression in the crystal-glistening sand. I know. It's very quiet in the desert. A deep stillness.

Still, a little further away, the Itara temple sits in the distance. Its outline hues of island reds, sky blues, and tropical greens strike the observer, giving the sanctuary a playful feel. Part of the Itara philosophy consists of finding joy in the everyday. So, the colors of the island constitute the colors of the temple. Its vibrant, colorful borders juxtapose against the mirror-like sky blue-greyish solar panels, which comprise the walls and roof, providing fifty percent of the building’s power. Like other structures on the southern half of Anuvadin, black-tone dark color bleeds into the all-metal constructions.

The interior holds an ample meditation space with a mat at the altar front and center looking over the inner sanctum. The floors are wooden planks, and the faded island color compliments the adobe walls surrounding the interior space, giving it an earthy feel. Refu thinks of his first visit noticing the sparse decor. It felt tropical, spacious, clean, and straightforward, exemplifying the breezy spirit of inner practice on Southern Anuvadin.

They arrive at the eco-town of Sakti, where Johari stays and where Itara temple resides. Refu visited the Impetus cities of the South. Their imposing urban structures of rubber-paved streets and tall buildings twisting like a double helix employ negative spaces for wind fan generation. Neighboring residents from the mountain lofts of gothic Dragonborn cities across their Lavi sea can observe Saktilavis's solar-twinkling megacities without the aid of a telescope.

These simple island towns of Sakti, Kipti, and Lavi twinkle, just on a smaller scale.

Arriving at Johari's home and temple, Refu touches the adobe surface of the residence, feeling the conscious, inoffensive environmental construction that borrows from the Virusattva wisdom of the North. He delights at the integration. Water from the shower drains into the holding tank for usage in the indoor garden's drip system. He admires Johari's celebration of innovation regardless of where he finds it. Strawberries, grapes, tomatoes, bananas, and mint hang about the entrance to the main house, a signature Virusattva design that makes his home stick out in the eco-town of Sakti. Plucking a couple of strawberries, Johari tosses them at Refu, who sucks on the sweet fruit juice with relish.

Johari stops to look at his daughter Almari’s map picture of Anuvadin taken from a high-altitude drone near the limits of their atmosphere. His hand, again, touches the slick, glossy image; the high-resolution portrait stirs his eyes to glisten with tears. One can see the twinkling lights of the South in stark contrast to the dim obscurity of North Anuvadin. Johari sighs, looking at the prominent visual difference.

Refu takes Johari’s wooden machete and his own and places them in their martial holders.

Casual familiarity allows Johari to strip down naked as he wets his cloth, wiping himself down. Refu takes in Johari's lean form before turning away from inner embarrassment. Following suit, Refu inhales the odor of fresh mint as Arhat Johari applies natural mint oil to his skin, and Refu mimics. One or two insects wander the room, never coming near Refu or Johari. No doubt, the reason lay in the effect of the offensive smell of mint on these insects.

Refu assumes fresh undergarments before putting on his loose-fitting clothes suited well for meditation practice. However, the Citta adept looks up and sees Uriel's Method diagram that he had told Johari about the day before. He will search for Uriel Gould at his teacher's request, who found this illustration via the Akili VR.

Refu takes in the graphic. Johari’s student follows the arrows moving from Open Mind, Open Heart, Open Will and around again. The illustration holds a symmetrical beauty that Arhat Johari would find intriguing. He was right.

There is something about it, isn't there. Refu continues to dissect the diagram.

Johari walks over to stand next to Refu.

Yes, there is. I would like to talk with the creator. Perhaps he could give a lecture on it at the Great Hall of Valdhi.

Refu chuckles. Yeah, that would be great, smiling, looking at the image.

Refu’s goosebumps flush on the side of his face where Johari stood, begging him to turn to his right to see Arhat Johari’s haunting eyes burrow into him. Such intensity repels Refu, and he leans away from the glare.

Refu thinks. He could not be saying what I think he is saying?!

Johari stares at Refu with the look of the utmost seriousness. That’s not possible, teacher. A person from earth can't physically cross into the deva realm.

But we must try. I feel the Maitreya calling me through this diagram Refu. Refu watches Johari stare at the image as if his teacher waits for something to arise from it. The long pause urges Refu to step closer to Johari. The Citta adept, hearing the word Maitreya arise from Johari's mouth, his teacher’s utterance casts the entire atmosphere into a holy moment.

Johari walks to a shelf that happens to have a carved figurine of a stylized pregnant woman made from onyx. Johari's thumb traces the woman's round pregnant bump as his eyes gaze far away. Refu observes his teacher hovering inside his daydream, and as Refu steps forward to break the reverie, Johari speaks to the figurine, still lost in thought.

Almari wants to meet him, this Uriel.

Refu blinks. Almari does not want to meet anyone.

You sent this picture to her? Refu inquires.

Johari turns to Refu and nods. I visited her and gave her the image. It might as well have been a dragonsteed. She said nothing for the rest of the visit. She just stared at it like a child looking at the night sky in wonder. If there is anyone who would know its mysterious depths, she will.

I am surprised that Eshe allowed it, Refu pursues. Refu knew Eshe still harbors resentment towards Johari. Many in Saktilavis bear disappointment towards him.

Johari shrugs. It is difficult to keep Almari occupied. That mind is insatiable. Now, she has this same diagram blown up on her wall. The image fills the space. Something about this graphic, Refu. Johari places his hands behind his back.

Do you think Muujiza was right? About the lesson? Johari asks.

Refu blinks; he is curious about the lesson as well. The only thing Refu learned is that Muujiza's character is dishonest brutality.

I am not sure what you mean, Teacher. Northern prejudice taints their entire culture. Hemispherian bigots. Refu exhales a quick breath of disdain.

Johari turns to Refu. Muujiza's lesson is that our enemies do not fight fair. Aram's minions are savages, and all means should be at our disposal. Following the way of Inquiry, especially Itara seems to place us at a disadvantage when a real fight comes.

Refu's words choke in his throat. It unnerves Refu that Johari penetrates to the heart of the matter with open consideration. Like a boxer always ready to be hit, it is a practice that makes Refu uneasy and endears him to deepen his respect for the Arhat. This bravery causes Johari to shine in Refu’s eyes.

Refu knows that his Master prefers frank talk. Honesty is one of the ten perfections, Refu, his teacher, would say, yet Refu's face and shoulder muscles constrict with apprehension towards telling him what he thinks. As Johari looks and waits, the moment drifts into many seconds. Then he faces Refu, squaring himself shoulder to shoulder.

It seems wise, teacher. Refu's words creep out of his mouth. He waits for Johari's reaction, a reaction that he could not predict. Instead of responding, Johari steps back and walks to a cherry-brown wicker chair next to the bed draped with a soft-knit multicolored blanket. He places his hands on thick, soft threads; a cover weaved in such a way to allow air to circulate through it. Johari crosses his legs, sitting next to the bed and placing his other elbow on his heavy black ore metal writing desk, which is the only metal furnishing in his entire futuristic adobe home. Four carved stylized dragon wings spiral from the center of the desk, symbolizing the four noble truths of Gautama the Buddha. A gift from the high Dragonborn Arhat Ninyamoyo when Johari received his arhatship. He places his arm on the table as his middle finger traces the slight relief, attracting his mind to deep thought.

It is wise, Refu. I agree with Muujiza. I can't entirely agree with her path in general.

As silence saturates the space, Refu observes his teacher's finger tap the dragon relief on the desk with downcast eyes in thought.

Recount briefly for me how the Path of Inquiry came to be? I ask so that I can penetrate the matter more deeply, Johari requests, still tapping the desk design.

Johari closes his eyes and sits back as if to receive a story like a parched man raising a glass of water to quench his thirst.

Well, Refu begins, "All Bhuvians know the story. The Lord of the Universe, Sakka, has given the four great rulers of the universe stewardship over how the universe works and tasked them to raise these fascinating children, us, to devahood. The evolved ones, what the northerners call devas, held long and involved discussions that turned into a disagreement among the four great rulers. The evolved one who loved the action, King Vaiśravaṇa, with his consort, Queen Virūpākṣa, the evolved one who fosters interconnection throughout the universe, believed that sattvas should embrace all things with love and compassion and follow the evolved one's wisdom and teachings faithfully. They thought this path of faith and devotion was the best path towards devahood.

Contrarily, the evolved one who is the supernormal genius of order and place, King Dhṛtarāṣṭra, with his consort, the brilliant, ascended being who deeply understood change and uncertainty beyond any being in the universe, Queen Virūḍhaka, believed that sattvas should embrace the truth of things allowing love and compassion to blossom from the harsh learning by reality itself. To learn for themselves so they may genuinely own their knowledge and wisdom. They believed this path of Inquiry and application is the best path towards achieving the higher stage of evolution.

And so, the great rulers of the Path of Inquiry took half of the population and set off to test their view. Ancient storytellers say this split is not done with anger or spite. This is merely a quest for truth, understanding with a desire to bring well-being and peace to sattvas in their charge.

Johari interjects, A good clarification.

Yes, Refu continues, merely to discern which path is the better choice. King Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Queen Virūḍhaka led the movement across hemispheres towards the South. The trek was dangerous as the ascended beings assisted the peoples to travel across seas but did nothing to ease their walk across mountains. Half the people died during the march. Refu's words fell to a whisper. The mood turns somber for him when he recounts the suffering of the people who traveled across the world dying because of predators, weather, and regretful miscalculations regarding food and shelter. The evolved ones refused to help, allowing the pain and tragedy to be their times of learning. And when they reached the cold destination of the snowy South, they worked hard to build their settlements in the snow. The devas intervene when the last remaining peoples are threatened with death. There was always a constant intention that was drummed into the minds and hearts of the people of the South by the great ones. Refu fell silent. Refu began to realize the point of Johari's request.

Depend on yourselves. Johari finishes Refu’s thought. Johari opens his eyes to think about the ascended rulers’ constant principle. We as a people should depend on ourselves. It is why Gautama, the Buddha, favored the Path of Inquiry over the Path of Faith. He never overtly took sides between the two paths, but it is easy to see which one he favors when you read his teachings.

Johari's head tilts towards Refu as he looks at his student and friend. We must learn not to depend on the evolved ones. Gautama refuses to give them the title of arhatship even though they are exceptionally wise and powerful. They need us to see through Aram's illusions and trickery. The more we depend on them, the less we realize the awakening from our efforts. This multiverse is still Aram's reality, and we are all trapped in it, including the evolved ones. While a few of us have moved towards our goal, we must find a way for collective liberation for all sentient beings. This compassion is the deep teaching of King Dhṛtarāṣṭra and Queen Virūḍhaka, and later the Buddha. We must usher forth the Maitreya Buddha, the one who is to come and bring all beings into the golden age of liberation.

Johari now stands again and goes to the illustration on the wall as Refu's eyes follow him. Refu inhales as the realization of what Johari believes becomes clearer.

I, too, would like to talk with the creator. Perhaps he could give a lecture on it at the Great Hall in Valdhi. Johari grins as his eyes move around the symmetrical diagram, following the arrows around the graphic.

But, teacher, a person from earth can't physically cross our plane. The Impetus does not have that kind of technology.

Johari crosses his arms and looks at Refu.

So it is impossible, even with the help of the evolved ones? Johari smiles.

With the help of the evolved ones? Refu looks shocked.

Johari follows up with one question.

Are you up for a trip to the north?

Chapter 2

Seed

From her home near Sakka, the northern capital of Anuvadin, Muujiza walks west towards the scene of an attack two miles from the sacred learning township of Prana. She frowns, remembering the altercation between her and Johari; this is what her teacher wants. She dismisses her two students when she steps on the wooden path striding