XX
It was like being in the military, with physical exertion and plenty of weapons training. It was necessary to understand your animal side before one could walk with peace in his heart, my master Lin Chi told me. The man who is unable to defend himself must always be wary of others, and will therefore be too distracted to notice whether he is headed on the path towards enlightenment, the art of emptiness and fullness. He taught me how to read another person's intentions simply by observing the manner in which he carried himself. Twenty years after I began to seek truths, my teacher told me that the time had come for me to study with his master, a man of great understanding with respect to the particular question that I faced. I asked him how he could know what my question was, when I did not even know it myself. Lin Chi laughed, and told me that he had known it in his heart since the day I arrived. He made me a present of a beautiful white robe like his own and instructed me to wear it on my arrival at my new master's. With those words, an old man who worked as a groundskeeper at this temple entered the room wordlessly and motioned for me to follow him.
XXI
We trekked for three days, much farther up into the mountains, until we came upon a gate that opened into a simple garden. My guide spoke to me for the first time, reminding me to put on the robe that Lin Chi had given me, then to continue up the pathway that would lead to the temple I would find in only an hour's walk. With that, he turned and left, going effortlessly down the rugged trail as if he was merely out for an afternoon stroll. I changed my clothes and began to ascend the path that lay ahead of me. I wondered about this new master that I was to meet; whether he would find me Worthy of serving him, and if I was ready to be in his company. Soon, I would know much more than that.
As I climbed over a small rise in the terrain, a surprisingly large structure came into view. It blended perfectly with the surrounding landscape and gave me the impression that it was an extension of it. A man was standing at the doorway, like a guardian of that remote place. He showed no emotion as he opened the single door and motioned me to enter. I walked into the entrance hall and felt the presence of another Immortal. It was my new master, Sun Tzu, and I became immediately at ease when he smiled and gave the secret greeting that Lin Chi had taught me to use whenever I met another member of their order. I responded with the correct reply and he welcomed me to his home. He said he had been here for nearly 1250 of his 1577 years, instructing apprentices and studying the ways of men. He explained that he had no personal use for The Prize that other Immortals sought. He felt that he was not fit to rule; his role was to help others find their own truths so they would be able to decide for themselves whether or not they desired permanent Immortality from The Game, but none had come to him before. I could hardly contain myself from asking why he thought himself unsuited to lead the world into the next great event of humanity, when he answered my question before I could ask it. He told me that those who are skilled in combat do not become angered, those who are skilled at winning do not become afraid. Thus the wise win before they fight, while the ignorant fight to win. Obviously I was in the right place for the instructions I sought and realised that I, like the man who guarded his front door and my master Lin Chi, would lay down my own life to protect his.
It was easy to stay on the mountain with Sun Tzu. There were only the three of us to look after and Li Quan took very good care of the vegetable garden that kept us all healthy. Somehow the brothers at the other temple always knew when we needed fresh meat and the occasional treat. Whatever supplies we needed but did not have would appear mysteriously at our doorstep at precisely the right time. I asked my master why no one thought it strange that he had lived so long. He replied that as far as they were concerned, he was a different person every generation, drawn anonymously from the ranks every fifty years or so and the foods were merely traditional gifts to the resident of the temple, whomever he may be.
XXII
After many years of training both physical and mental, when we finally began to discuss what role in the world's development was to be played by the winner of The Game, Sun Tzu explained the details of his philosophy to me. In his opinion, the champion must be one who walked an enlightened path, because the forces of the universe that ultimately controlled us could not permit otherwise. If there was a benefic Creator, and he could not imagine that there was not, He would not allow the rest of His creations to suffer under a ruler that would treat the rest of humanity with disdain. That would be too great of an injustice to a world that had done nothing to deserve it. Thus, the widespread concern that a potential tyrant could gain The Prize was intrinsically delusional. Everything about living on earth is about balance, he explained, with each living thing playing its own necessary part in the greater whole. To ensure that, somewhere else an adjustment was made to compensate. Things had always been this way, he said, and would always remain so, for as long as there was life on the planet. Occasional imbalances might occur from time to time, but something or someone would always intuitively know how and when to adjust it when the correct time came. Those who were intended to make such adjustments might even be the most unlikely to recognise in themselves the ability to evoke these changes.
I explained to him about the Watchers and my involvement with them in the past, as well as my intention to continue monitoring them. He was not surprised to hear that they existed, since people are basically social beings, and shared my concerns about their potential to cause disarray. He cautioned me to remain guarded about exchanging my information about them with other Immortals, even to those whom I trusted, because I could not guarantee that the information would be used wisely.
XXIII
About 800 B.C., our keeper of the temple, Li Quan, died and we were indebted to carry him back to the lower temple so his body could be returned to his family for burial. While we were there, Sun Tzu spoke at great length with Lin Chi, who was growing quite old. When I questioned him while on our return home about what they had discussed, Sun Tzu said that Lin Chi had commented to him upon the lack of change in his physical features, despite the advance of time. Lin Chi had been just a boy when he was sent to train under Sun Tzu some 70 years ago and although he understood that it was common for members of their order to live for 90 or even 100 years he wondered why his teacher looked exactly as he had when they first met. I told Sun Tzu that such circumstances were a common problem in the out- side world, precipitating a change in location every generation to preserve my identity. He said, with reference to our new guardian—Wang Xi—who was traveling back with us, that he always told the truth when the end of life came to his students. If he had trained them well, they had gained enough wisdom to understand.
When his time came, he would tell Wang Xi the same thing, if he asked. I was his first Immortal student, and he had been pleased to see that one of us had come so far to seek answers. It was uncommon for Immortals to do this, he said, because the immediate concerns of The Game could be very distracting from a life of contemplation. I took that to be a compliment and never asked him about it again.
XXIV
As I approached my 2200th birthday, I possessed renewed hope that the questions I sought to understand were someday going to be within my reach. My master and I had explored the existential concept of Immortality, along with a program of physical training that would assist my mind in its deliberations, for nearly a century. This had awakened in me a rejuvenated spiritual sense that I had not known since I was a boy and I stared at the night sky, entranced by its infinite mystery of creation. Certainly I had not been able to comprehend, at that young age, the infinite possibilities of my lifetime and my potential to impact upon the world in a positive way. Now I was beginning to recognise a glimmer of light in a world that had previously been cast in the shadow of my own ignorance. I had learned enough to understand some of the basic responsibilities and contradictions of human experience, that I felt truly free to begin to explore the true potential of a life, any life, that was lived in worthy
pursuit of a purposeful existence. I knew that I had come a long way to find out that my real journey was just beginning and I was thankful for the opportunity. Every new day was a rebirth of my soul, full of forgiveness for my past and the promise of new beginnings. I felt more alive than ever and the chasm of emptiness was becoming instead a covenant of expectation left to fulfill. It was the most exciting period of my life.
Sun Tzu acted to use this opportunity to pour his wisdom of warfare into my newly constructed chassis. We began training earnestly in the methods of physical technique necessary to accompany my development into a philosopher-warrior. He demonstrated the necessity of balance between my soul and mind, in order to avoid the trap of arrogance. I discovered how to win without fighting. He instructed me in the art of strategy and endurance of the mind, to assist me in the judicious use of my strengths. Our new guardian/groundskeeper Wang Xi allowed us to know that he was trained in the fighting style of his native region, and he generously taught me several new techniques.
XXV
And so I began the next phase of my life. Sun Tzu had been hinting at a new level of progression that I needed to ascend, without elaborating any further at that time. Now he did. He told me that I had been a good and worthy student of all that he had taught me, but the time had come for me to return to the world and apply that which I had absorbed. He assured me that I was welcome to return to him for more instruction as I felt the need, but he was of the opinion that I was unlikely to do so in the near future. I had learned a great deal while living in that refuge with him, but he was concerned that I had lost touch with my social abilities among ordinary people. He intended to do the very same thing himself, he said, returning to his home province in order to renew his contact with the perspective of ordinary people, as well as to confirm the sights and sounds of his own beginnings. I argued that I had much more to learn from him before I would be ready to go forth again, but my complaints fell upon deaf ears. The date of my departure was set in stone at two weeks hence, in order that I might prepare myself mentally for the challenges ahead. That time was to be spent in contemplation of all that I had observed while in this retreat, and how it might he best applied to my future actions.
My heart was heavy with regret when the moment came for me to go. I changed into a suit of clothing that Sun Tzu had obtained for me, which he said was contemporary dress for the period that I was rejoining. He asked me to make my way alone from the temple I had called home for 126 years, and so, on the morning of the proscribed date, I walked down the mountain to meet my future. I was 2271 years old and felt like a newborn lamb that was being led in from the wilderness as I began my expedition to rejoin civilisation. I headed for the city of Rome, familiar ground upon which I could begin again.
From the Grave
An Excerpt from the Journal of Richie Ryan
by Stan Kirsch
"RICHIE RYAN": Stan Kirsch
No character on Highlander: The Series experienced more change and growth over the course of the series than Richie Ryan. The first character we see in the very first scene of the first episode, Richie is a defining force throughout the series as he learns the lessons of the Immortal Game, first as an observer; then as a participant.
Actor Stan Kirsch, too, was there from the start to the finish, one of a very small number of cast or crew to be a part of all six seasons of Highlander. For a surprising perspective on Richie's past, present, and future, Stan gives us his voice, "From the Grave."
October, 1999
I've been safely tucked away in the afterlife for several years now. Fortunately, I've managed to make excellent use of the time. I've immersed myself in books, absorbing literature and art, educating and enriching myself in ways I never had the occasion to before. After all, a brief life spent watching one's back, attacking and defending, constantly sheathed in a protective shell, doesn't leave much opportunity for inspiration or reflection.
I'm aware that my sudden and unpremeditated decapitation at the hands of my illustrious mentor was not his intention. Ironically, however, it was MacLeod who introduced me to the notion that "there can be only one." Alas, it was not me. Who was I kidding to think it might be? I'm sure MacLeod grieved. He is not a man without feeling. Nevertheless, he has taken many lives and seen many loved ones die. I'm certain he will move on.
I lost great friends whom I miss dearly and have yearned for the chance to bid them farewell. Recently I befriended a messenger at the gates of Saint Peter, and it seems he will do me the favor of relaying a single correspondence to a few of my cohorts on earth. I have decided to take him up on his offer and put words to paper. I'm sure this is a rare privilege and I am thankful for it. Incidentally, I imagine that the therapeutic benefits of such an exercise can be quite enormous. I will embark on these letters now.
Dearest Amanda:
I'm certain this letter finds you deep in drink and mischief.
It's a large responsibility being the life of the party, but you seem to manage quite well. Come to think of it, I miss the rebellious thrill of a wild detour from the path of righteousness. Those nights we spent together in Spain will always remain our precious secret and very dear to me. I will never be able to smell the aroma of cheap Castillian wine and not think of you.
I understand that you settled in New York and I hope it's worked out for you. Be careful—the cops there can be relentless. I know this from experience. I am terribly envious at any rate. I would certainly love a bite of the Big Apple right now. Speaking of which, be sure to take in the food, particularly Little Italy. It's as close to the real thing as you could possibly imagine. Knowing you, on the other hand, you'll be spending a good deal more time at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Those poor security guards have no idea what awaits them.
Amanda, thank you for encouraging me to look into the face of adversity, stare it down with strength and pride, and always maintain my sense of humor. I would have looked forward to a lasting and enduring friendship between us.
Live long and happy, work hard and play hard, and never look back—just like you taught me. Thanks for the memories.
Yours truly,
Richard "The Lionheart"
Dear Joe:
I have an unopened bottle of fine tequila sitting right here, beckoning you. It's not that I'm pessimistic about your life span, but if you continue to travel in such dangerous circles, you're bound to run into trouble sooner or later. Take it from me.
I was stubborn, should have listened to you and Methos. Too bad you weren't there with a gun this time. At any rate, I've made some good contacts up here and I look forward to showing you around. It may be centuries before I run into Amanda, Methos or Mac, so I'm not holding my breath. Don't worry, I'm not angry or bitter. I'm certain Mac didn't knowingly harm me.
I'm actually at peace for the first time. My life was spent running and ducking, and although I made good friends, such as yourself, I never really found a home. I've submerged myself in books and art and taken to many creative pursuits. I've even met a wonderful woman.
It was lonely at first, but I've come to appreciate my life of tranquility. Still, I would love the chance to spend one last evening at Joe's. Speaking of which, give my regards to everyone. I hold on to the notion that I am missed, and I'd certainly hate to be wrong.
I have great respect for you, Joe. You are a man of courage and fortitude (and perhaps, insanity) to live the life you've chosen. I'm grateful to have known you. Your counsel was invaluable and your friendship priceless.
Best of luck with your music and don't forget to bring your guitars when next we meet. For now, enjoy every moment. I know how mortals value their precious "time on earth" and I'm certain you'll continue to make the most of yours. And when that fateful moment comes, fear not. I'm right here for you with those drinks and many more. After all, if it's good to you, it's good for you. Take care, Joe.
Your Friend,
Richie
Methos:
It may come as a sur
prise to you hearing from me. Given the opportunity, I wanted you to know what a great pleasure it was to make your acquaintance and get to know you. For the record, I'm sorry I ever questioned your identity. I was plagued by both naivete and stubbornness, a deadly combination. I should have listened to you and Joe. Famous last words—I'm sure you've heard them before.
Over several thousand years I'd imagine you've touched many people, and I can assure you I'm one of them. I'm certain your sarcasm and irreverence belie a caring and a genuinely good nature, although I don't doubt that you, too, have your faults. I wonder what my life would have been like under your tutelage. But as we both know, "In the end there can be only one," and my likelihood for survival may not have been any better.
I look forward to a time when and if we meet again. Until then, take care. Be generous with your wisdom, Methos. Many could benefit from it.
Sincerely,
Rich Ryan
Mac:
An Evening at Joe's Page 9
