The sky glowed red and a thundering noise echoed through the valleys.

A rain of ash showered the barren landscape of the deserted mountain range.

Tucking his orange robe tightly around him, the monk had predicted the anger from the sleeping depths of the holy giant.

The ancient scripts, in the monastery had detailed reports, of various monk generations, whom had to endure the wrath of this snowy clad crater.

Traditionally, at such times, the monks would gather in the cobble stoned court yard, with the aromas of incense filling the cold air, offering their prayers, to the mountain deities.

However, this time, it wasn’t just smoke escaping through its hollows.

This time, it was an array of liquid colours, shooting out from within the depts of the opening.

Through the sheets of smoke and ashes, the monk could not recognise any other of his fellow brothers.

Instead, all he was left with, was an overpowering smell and taste of sulphite.

His sense of direction, had betrayed him several times, as he was stumbling through the apocalyptic landscape, that now presented itself to him.

These were the moments, when everything you were supposed to have learnt, during endless rituals of prayer, meditation, solitude and fasting, should be applied into reality.

However, how could one find comfort in their breathing, if the air was void of any lively substance?

The ground shook, yet again and fear spread through his blood, like venom.

Blindly, he stumbled barefoot through the snow, becoming deaf to the voice, that tried to guide him.

Today’s occurrences, were the reason, why he had been sent to this isolated mountain top monastery, as a 4 year old 23 years ago.

His spiritual, mental and emotional capacity, was thought to have been a match to the relentless forces, that were presenting themselves to him now.

Nevertheless, here he was at breaking point, stripped off everything, including his senses , stumbling through what appeared to be hell.

The brotherhood, consisted of 11 monks, representing the 11 peaks of the sacred mountain ranges.

Majestically, amongst them, was a volcano, which was thought to guard the dark secrets of the human mind.

Legend has it, that when negative and undesirable human traits outweigh those of love, kindness and compassion– the mountain would release such, in order to restore balance.

Currently, the world was enveloped into greed and separation, causing great rifts amongst various societies upon the planet.

The earth was now purging the toxins to the surface, to cleanse itself of that, which threatened to destroy it.

The monk knew, that his only chance out of this nightmare, was by surrendering himself and letting go.

Was it true that overcoming his need to control the situation, was the only obstacle that hindered him on manifesting himself into an alternative reality? Was he more scared of loosing the life he had right now or entering an unknown and new reality?