Forcing Curtains

By Todd Franklin Osborn

Forcing Curtains is a collection of short stories and poems by Todd Franklin Osborn. His work explores themes of subjective identity, death, religion, philosophy, ethics/morality, among others. His previous shorter collection, Cursing Fortune, is available elsewhere.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Todd Franklin Osborn
• Release date: Sep 1, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201101060

Book preview

I - The Nature Of Knowledge

Ifirst heard of Shen's Holiness Ha at the beginning of last year. I had been looking for an interesting, big issue about which to write, something that I could delve into deeply, something really meaningful, and with this project, if I put my all into it, I figured I could stand to gain some significant attention in the world of international philosophic and religious journals. I'm not a mainstream writer; I never had the drive nor the interest, but I did want to succeed in my chosen, humble ambitions. I became fascinated by Ha and shen's followers after meeting one such follower at a world religion conference in Salt Lake City. Dac Kien Phan was a diminutive, thoughtful, young Vietnamese man, and as comfortable and confident an English speaker as any I'd heard. He sat next to me at one of the many seminars offered, and afterward we began talking. I got the feeling, after accepting an invitation to have lunch with him to continue our conversation, that he engaged me at the seminar precisely to get the opportunity to introduce me to the idea of Shen's Holiness Ha. I didn't mind because it was during that lunch that I began to think that this could be my big story. It had the potential for scope and depth, and to resonate with many readers.

In case my use of this unusual pronoun, shen, is contextually confusing, it arose after Mr. Phan informed me that Ha, a modern holy prophet who travels the world teaching all those who will listen about tolerance, patience, acceptance, and a first principles approach to life, was said to be nationless, nameless, and genderless. No one knew where Ha was born, or so Mr. Phan said, and the name, Ha, was not claimed by shen, but was rather attributed to shen by shen's Vietnamese followers living in a remote commune in the northern Vietnamese mountains, situated southwest of Hanoi and not far from the border of Laos, an area where Ha had apparently settled for a number of years. The pronoun designations were decided upon by me, to act as a respectfully genderless type: new language for new generations. Ha's followers didn't, in fact, use these genderless forms. I briefly considered using their/them, but I figured it would be too confusing, especially given that Ha and the followers of Ha are so closely linked. Writing about the followers would entail using many plural pronouns. I read about the use of hen by a teenager in the U.S., and initially thought it sounded a bit too arbitrary, but upon further reflection, I realized my real problem with it was that it co-opts a word already well defined in English. I decided on shen, thinking that it's similar, less male-centric, and has no other known meaning in our language. It also contains both of the basic gendered pronouns used in English, an idea I found appealing. My rule for usage was that for the possessive, I'd merely add an apostrophe and s, whereas in English, he and she are changed to his and hers, respectively. Ultimately, I thought gender neutral should be linguistically simpler. 

I had three other meetings with Mr. Phan before the conference ended, and we talked almost exclusively about Ha. He told me that there were books, handwritten in Vietnamese, that documented Ha's teachings and as much of shen's life story as shen was willing to tell, but that none of these writings had ever been published. Ha shied from talking about shen's past, preferring to live in the present moment as much as possible. Mr. Phan said Ha had a very peculiar mind, and would often speak to shen's followers in what seemed an endless series of complicated riddles. On our last meeting, and just minutes before he realized he was running late for his flight back to Vietnam, Mr. Phan made it known to me that he had personally never met Ha, nor had he seen Shen's Holiness in person, and that during the three years he had spent so far in the mountains, only fellow followers had instructed him in the teachings of Ha. His admission gave me room for pause, but Mr. Phan was positive that he would meet shen in time, and his attitude and enthusiasm won me over. He invited me to come anytime to visit them, and he tried to encourage me by telling me that, despite his not having seen Ha up to this point, that I would no doubt be able to meet Ha because shen liked Westerners. I found that slightly amusing, but I took it for what it was worth, in a good way. In the weeks after my meeting with Mr. Phan, the idea of going took hold more and more, until I finally made the flight arrangements to travel to Vietnam in late March, deciding that this was the compelling story on which I needed to follow up.

Xã Bát Mot is a tiny Vietnamese village only a few miles from the mountain retreat where Ha and shen's followers lived communally. I was in contact many times by email with Mr. Phan, who by now had asked me to call him Dac. He asked me to meet him in that village because he knew people in Hanoi who could give me detailed directions to it, but that they would do so in such a manner that no one else would be alerted to my final destination, which was kept as private as possible for political (and other) reasons. Once I made it to Xã Bát Mot, Dac met me late one morning with two other followers, and we set off after lunch to hike up to Kien Thuc Noi, Ha's mountain retreat, the name of which he said simply meant knowledge place. It was a pretty steep hike, although the first couple of miles were merely a slowly rising dirt road, but after which my guides led me off road into thick forest, on a narrow, steep path, which in some places was augmented by stone steps. Once we reached Kien Thuc Noi, the dense forest gave way suddenly to a several acre, roughly circular, clearing centered with a large, single-level wood building, patchily painted in rainbow colors and having a slightly sloped tin-shingled roof that overhung several feet on every side. Elsewhere in the fairly level-grounded clearing were many tents, clustered into different camps (each with a fire pit), and a few other smaller wood buildings peppered around the edge of the space, nearer to the tree line. 

I was to stay in Dac’s tent, along with the two followers who had accompanied me from the village. One of them was Dac’s girlfriend, Tam, who was quiet and reserved, and wore a green monk’s robe, whereas the men in the camp, I came to know, wore only white or beige. The women could wear any color except white and beige. This wasn’t by order of Ha, and it wasn’t because any follower had claimed the mantle of general rule-maker, but simply because it made sense to them. It seemed, as I learned more, that this religion was incredibly organic, so to speak; it was very much of the people, and not highly organized the way the major religions are. That is not to say that it was hokey or phony at all, quite the opposite really. Dac and Tam talked to me about what a typical day in the camp was like: meditation, shared meals, shared work, reading (not just the words of Ha, but anything), and physical activities like group sports, yoga, or just running or walking through the forest.

I asked them if there were ever any conflicts, and about the possibility that someone in the camp does something that goes against the teachings. Can such a person be banished? Is there anything like punishment? Dac and Tam smiled, then looked at each other, and Tam answered, simply, No. I thought about asking a follow-up question, but something in the way she answered – her English was limited, although such a simple answer took no great language skill – I heard sincere truth in it. I think I detected pride, in fact...understanding what I was saying and providing the answer seemed to be an accomplishment for her. Something about this, and what I had already seen in the short time I had been there, and something about the feeling I had being there, made many other questions seem to have been answered already. Still, I was a journalist. I would eventually get around to asking them.

I had a notion that people in the U.S. would think that this was a cult of some kind, but I didn’t have that feeling at all. The entire group radiated peace and contentment, and I saw no signs of discord. Not that the followers of Ha were drinking the Kool-aid, but that they were getting along, each making the effort required, each taking personal