Fugo
herondreams
- Created
- 9 years, 3 months ago
- Favorites
- 3
Profile
Basics
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Likes
- misting rain
- a singing river
- the first snow
- chanting under bells
Dislikes
- littering
- loud voices
- spring frost
- cruelty
When the valley was waking up...
Before there were paved roads and tall homes, a village of farmers and fish-catchers lived peacefully in a valley lush with trees and abound with wild game. For as long as the families could remember, storms were caught in the mountain’s heights but the worst of it never reached their homes and boats moored along the gentle river.
One family in particular, was famously helpful but also humble in their actions. One spring, when a pair of monks came to the valley and asked the village for help in building a new temple in the mountains, the humble family made it their purpose to see that the temple would be well-built and beautiful. In only a handful of summers, the temple was complete and fit for a proper cloister of penitents. The village used the temple for their ceremonies and festivals, and soon more people came to see the small but charming temple grounds.
The humble family watched their village blossom with visitors and a sense of accomplishment and pride grew within them. The oldest child was especially proud of their work, and sometimes would sleep at the temple to tend the gardens and tidy the paths. In time, they became a monk, even though their humble family was now prominent and wealthy within the village. As the child grew into old age, they kept to the mountains more and more, and eventually knew they’d never see their family home again. But this was not a sad choice.
When eventually the humble temple builder and garden keeper was never seen again, the monks could not find any corpse. The monks decided their friend had gone into the mountains they loved best, to pass away quietly and sink into the bones of the earth.
However, their gardens kept themselves clean and abundant with new shrubs and flowers, even though no monk could claim to have planted or tended the greenery. The water was always cold and clear, while birds raised their young in the ancient bonsai trees each year. The abbot of the temple declared that their deceased friend’s spirit, though silent and humble, was keeping the gardens for them even in death.
Far into the future, the name of the garden keeper is lost, but the esk Fugo, the temple’s silent blessing, remains.
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