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If you’re reading this then you are the recipient of the first ever successful international flight by paper aeroplane. It is made from no ordinary paper. It is actually a special kind of paper, from a magical tree, located in a cave high atop one of the mountain peaks of the Himalayas in Nepal.
Its over 600km long journey began when it was launched from Pun Hill in the village of Ghorepani. From there it has flown through the air night and day, over two continents to get to you. As unbelievable as this all sounds, the story of how I came to acquire this paper is just as fantastical.
It all started on the third day of a 15-day trek through the Annapurna Mountains that I took with my friend Iekeliene and our guide Jagat. We arose early that morning, the roosters having awoken us with their morning songs. As we set off, the sun had just cleared the horizon and was kissing the tops of the snow capped mountains, casting a warm orange glow on their pristine white peaks. We were told that the trek that day would be the hardest yet, climbing over 1600 metres over a six-hour period, straight up over rocky terrain.
At about midday, hungry and already tired, we entered what Jagat had told us was an enchanted jungle. Legend has it that among the trees lived a number of wizards, nymphs and elves who were put in service of protecting this magical land from the forces of evil. In the past, mountain folk would gather at sunset in a ceremony of song and dance in praise of these mythical creatures that had been sworn to guard what for them were sacred surroundings. Some claim that if you listen closely enough you can still hear the sound of drums beating and voices singing, reverberating in the wind through the silver-dollar shaped leaves of the moss-covered trees.
As I entered the forest my entire being was overcome with a sensation that I can only describe as the type of wonder that children experience everyday in their lives. That whimsical feeling where everything is new and exciting, where everyday is an opportunity to see the world with fresh eyes, to experience the world as a special place filled with magic and wonder. In that moment I realised that it is not the world around me that had changed, it was I. Over the years it is I that stopped believing how wondrous the world was. I had silenced that part of me that felt the world around me as fantastical. And in this instance I didn’t feel the least bit scared by these mysterious surroundings. I felt completely and utterly safe.
As I was standing there admiring my surroundings I must have lost track of time and found myself unable to locate my companions. I called out to them but didn’t receive a response. They could not have gone far, I told myself. But for some reason, no matter how fast I walked I couldn’t seem to find them. I began to get worried.
Just then, a mysterious fog crept up without warning, enveloping me in a white veil of clouds so thick that I could barely see two feet in front of me. I was lost but I kept walking. An hour passed, then another and before I knew it, it started getting dark and the temperature began to drop. Soon enough it was pitch black and all around me was a cacophony of wild sounds. I was scared. I couldn’t go on for fear of falling off a cliff to my death. But if I stayed I would be easy prey for the unseen but heard nocturnal predators.
A faint light appeared in the distance. I followed it, as though the light was calling to me, encouraging me to pursue it. Up and up I went climbing higher and higher in the dark. As I got closer I realised that the light was coming from the inside of a cave. I hesitated for a moment but I was cold and hungry and a confidence fell over me, an assurance that told me that whatever was inside the cave was safe. As I cautiously entered the cave I noticed a dark figure sitting hunched over silently in front of the fire. The figure was completely motionless. As I came closer I noticed that the figure was in fact a Buddhist monk that was sitting in meditation.
“Hello Julian, we’ve been expecting you.” I was dumbfounded. But the monk assured me that he would answer all my questions and motioned me to sit down with him near the warm fire, offering me a cup of tea and some bread. The monk told me that for the past few years I felt as though I were searching for something, never quite sure what it was. That over this time I had lost a sense of who I was, whom I identified with and where I felt I fit in the world. He said that I had been striving and struggling to find answers in my life but was finding that with each answer I found, more questions would arise. “And this is why you are here Julian. But before I elaborate on this I want to tell you a little story…”
The monk went on to tell me the story of the enchanted jungle below and that the mythical creatures populated the jungle not only to protect all the trees but specifically a single, magical tree. A tree that was found just behind the very cave we were sitting in. This tree had been around since the beginning of time and was the primary source of all the good and evil in the world. He told me how the tree’s original purpose was to help all living creatures of the world live harmoniously together. Its wood could forever allow people and animals to make shelters for themselves, and when married with the element of fire it was used as a source of heat and light. Its fruit and leaves could provide nourishment for the entire world and this single tree was capable of producing all the oxygen needed for all the creatures of the planet.
But there was another side to this story, the monk said. He told me that there were those few who wanted more, who wanted to use the tree as a source of suffering instead of happiness. The wood was used to make weapons to cause harm, its bark was converted into paper to make money and become a source of oppression. This gift that had been bestowed upon the world to spread peace and love actually became the cause of countless wars and battles because, it was discovered, whoever owned the tree would have absolute power and with absolute power came absolute control and enslavement of the world.
And so wars were fought over this tree. Wars led to the dividing up of the world into countries, regions, towns and villages. This led to property and the creation of fences and the separation of the world into parts. And so it was decided that the tree would be taken away from the world and hidden in this cave, accessible only to those who would use it for the betterment of the world.
“And this is why you are here Julian,” the monk said, “this is why I was expecting you. Because you see, today, the tree itself told me that you would be coming. The tree itself chose you as the next person it would meet. But the thing is, the tree does not tell me why you have been chosen. It provides the tools necessary for you to complete the task but that is all, the rest is for you to discover.”
Concluding his dialogue the monk disappeared into the darkness of the cave. Re-emerging moments later he handed me a notebook, “Of all the gifts this amazing tree imparts upon the world, its most important was its use as paper. Because you see, all the world’s most important and influential texts were originally written on the paper derived from this very tree. From all the world’s religious and spiritual texts, to the first scribblings of language, mathematical formulations and scientific experiments, to its greatest philosophies, symphonies and operas, poetry and manifestos, paintings, literature and newspapers. Speeches, drawings and even screenplays. The creation of paper has enabled the world to share ideas. It has allowed people to express themselves and communicate in a more lasting way than the oral tradition. And words and ideas are powerful things, so powerful that they can literally change the world. With this notebook the Tree has chosen you to contribute to this history. It is for you to share and spread a certain message with others. Ideas only become real when they are shared.”
“But where do I start?” I responded.
“Start by acknowledging those people in your life that have made you the person you are. Acknowledge those special people whose presence in your life has inspired and shaped the you that you put out into the world. Use their attendance in your life as inspiration to realise your path.” And with these words the monk turned and walked away into the darkened cave. The fire had gone out, all that remained were some dying embers. I was left in complete darkness. Alone.
As I turned around and walked out of the cave I suddenly found myself lying in the bed of a guesthouse in Ghorepani. Iekeliene was asleep in the bed beside. It was still dark outside. In my daze I felt mystified. A million questions rushed to my mind. I sat up in bed, trying to make sense of this absurd situation and noticed something peeking out the corner of my backpack. I jumped out of bed fully aware of the contents of the bag.
I didn’t sleep the rest of the night. I stayed up so I could write this incredible story on paper. I wrote at a feverish pace, making sure not to omit a single detail. And now that I’ve finished writing down my story I am thinking about the monk’s suggestion. And I’ve come up with one of the ways I want to share. If this paper comes from a magical tree then it too must be magical. And if so then I should be able to fold one of its sheets into a paper plane, write a message in it and send it off to you. I wanted you to be the first person I share this story with. And I want to tell you that I am grateful to you for being a part of my life. You make me a better me.
As I write this I hear a knock at my door. Jagat has come to wake us for our trek up to Pun hill in time to watch the sunrise greet the Himalayan peaks. I’m taking the plane with me. I’m going to send it to you. I hope you get it.
by Julian DeZorzi
All images by Iekeliene Stange
From the Glass Archive – Issue Two – Rapture
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