Gripping tufts of hair, the path ahead feels both heavy and light.
The young one’s footsteps are light, dancing, while the dragged person’s feet scrape heavily against the ground, leaving long drawn-out lines. This truly reveals how sorrowful the weight of time can be. The dragging leaves deep tracks, and the tufts of hair, held fast against the passage of years, are brittle and devoid of luster, much like that of maize.
Ah, the old man’s hair is truly comparable to maize.
Thus, walking with each step as in ancient tales, a strand of hair falls and takes root in the earth, growing into a fruit of resemblance, hanging down locks just like the old man’s hair, declaring its own existence. When asked about the name of the fruit, it was said to be maize.
Ah, the traces of the youth leave nothing.
Yet, from the tracks of the old man grows maize! This must be the hospitality the old gives to the young.
Walking, and walking some more.
Up and down.
The curve of the journey resembles that of life itself, much like the life of the elder reluctantly pulled by the passage of time.
But can any journey last forever?
If there is a beginning, must there not also be an end?
Thus the two reached their destination: one stood straight-backed, the other bending low to the ground, struggling to maintain balance.
The volcano then spoke.
“Ah, a promising youth has brought an old man to me.
You have brought someone here who is soon to die—to prepare a funeral!”
“Burning flames cannot remain eternally alight, and boiling magma shall inevitably cool. Yet this can also work in reverse. A cooled stone may melt to magma again, and logs will burn in flame. This is the cycle, the very principle of the world.”
A young shaman then looked down at the elder as he began to speak.
Though tall and seemingly thin, the arm gripping the elder’s hair revealed strong, prominent muscles. Veins bulged around his neck and beads of sweat trickled down his face, carrying a slight stench and tinged with a dark crimson hue, much like mud mixed with blood. Sticky and viscous, it originated from Jinseong’s sweating pores, flowing down.
This happened because the capillaries had burst—this was the cost of magic.
Yet this was a pain easily endured.
“Look now. Look at your end, you who are to perish.”
With blood-tinged sweat, with those crimson hands gripping the hair, came these words.
“This is the volcano. Catastrophe and calamity await you here, and this is the place where you shall achieve your goal…”
*
In ancient times…
The grand forces of nature lay beyond human comprehension.
The more incomprehensible and immense they were, the harder it became to grasp.
Thus people worshipped these forces out of both fear and awe.
Stories were created to explain these phenomena and were woven into mythologies.
Then myths became religions and shaped lifestyles.
The lightning that scorched the sky was an event of the gods above.
Countless bolts of lightning striking in short bursts on one spot were a ceremony held by Zeus.
The unimaginable tidal waves, which overturned islands and swept away coastlines, were the wrath of Poseidon.
Thus, to calm their anger, people began offering their most precious possessions, creating offerings.
People would sacrifice their precious things to the gods to either secure their own safety or request blessings far more precious, and this was the reason ceremonies of magic were held.
These sacred rites required objects that were hard to procure, and sometimes, they were common things that were simultaneously invaluable—
Ah, these were neighbors, children, and parents.
Thus, a number of religions sacrificed humans to pacify the wrath of the gods.
And now, here, a person will be offered.
“O one of the Four Snow Goddesses. Most beautiful goddess who dwells in Mauna Kea. Cast your gaze upon the sacrificer who worships and celebrates your beauty…”
Walking.
To break free from the dominion of Pele, the goddess of Kilaeua and Mauna Loa, Kenneth is dragged, leaving corn sprouts at every step. They continue walking towards a cooler air towards the territory of Poliʻahu.
The place is ample with slants and curves.
Once Jinseong reached the final destination, he finally released the hair from his grip and took a stance.
Right foot forward.
Left foot back.
Both fists closed, his forefingers extended upwards.
One palm facing outward, his left fingers pointing towards the crown of his head, the right towards his chest.
He slightly bent his forefingers into hooks, as if grabbing something from the air, then clenched his fist. Pushing what he captured into the interior of his clenched fist, compressing it tightly, he moved his fingers as though hanging it on the curled fingers, then spread his palms…
Swish.
He moved.
Both arms went in the same direction:
One arm went down while the other went up, and thus began to draw a circle.
The speed wasn’t fast but smooth, drawing graceful curves, distorting the cool night air slowly—again and again. As his hands drew circles and crossed the same trajectory, the circles grew tangible, though unseen. Clearly, the track left behind was endless, without a start or an end—a symbol carrying the very principle of the world.
Bright, warm energy clung to one palm, leaving a tail as it moved.
Dark, cold energy clung to the other palm, again leaving a tail as it moved.
But within that warmth lied a coldness hidden and in the cold there lay warmth, reminding one that within darkness there is light, and within light lies shadow.
Behold.
This is Yin and Yang.
This is Taiji.
One is Yang, the other is Yin.
They interlock tails and form circles, representing the Taiji symbol.
But Yin contains Yang and Yang contains Yin, making them indistinguishable.
This is the principle of the world.
Zzzzzip!
Thus the principle of Yin and Yang blossomed forth in Jinseong’s palms.
In one hand, flowers made from ice began to bloom.
A cold energy gathered, forming faintly ethereal blooms, gathering moisture into icy flowers. They resembled winter frost on the rivers and snow flowers that adorned trees after a blizzard.
In the other hand, a heat mist rose.
This heat carried a faint glow, resembling foxfire in the dark. With each movement of his hand in a circle, it moved like a comet revolving around a person.
Zzzzzip!
Flowers bloomed.
The arm swung, casting cold energy down to the ground below, freezing trees and covering the area with frost. Leaves were frozen, piercing through with sharp icicles, spreading icy cold air so chilling that one’s breath turned foggy.
WHOOSH!
Comets fell.
The comet infused with Yang energy struck the ground, instantly melting the ice and heating the ground until it glowed a fiery red, reaching temperatures over 800 degrees—matching the heat of lava.
Thus, the ground responded with bubbling lava, as if to echo.
Ah, this must be the river of fire where the goddesses danced long ago…
“Long ago, I joined games with the people of the land. That game was called heʻe hōlua. Most beautiful goddess, the divine one who rivals Pele! In honor of you, I offer this sleigh to the stranger present here!”
Yang brought about the river of fire.
Yin cooled the surroundings to the temperature the Snow Goddess prefers.
The frozen trees themselves stretched out branches and fashioned a narrow sled, much like the story of Poliʻahu offering sleds to strangers to race.
And…
“Dear life, I offer you aid for your purpose to be fulfilled…”
Here is a stranger to compete with her.
Ah, their hair resembles maize so much.
Their elderly figure is truly like maize…
As if crafted out of maize itself.
