Tenzin’s Quiet Questions & Meditation
Date: 2025-09-13 08:05
(Tenzin’s Quiet Questions & Meditation)
[Sat Sep 13 2025]
A Well–Worn Carnival Pathway/span>/spanThe pathway winds through the fairground, its surface a mixture of packed
earth and scattered gravel worn smooth by countless footsteps. The ground
bears the permanent impressions of heavy carnival equipment wheels, creating
shallow ruts that collect rainwater during wet weather. Patches of stubborn
grass struggle to grow along the edges where foot traffic is lighter, though
most vegetation has long since surrendered to the constant parade of
visitors. Electric cables snake across the path in places, covered by thick
rubber mats to prevent tripping. The smell of popcorn and fried dough mingles
with diesel fumes from the generators that power the various attractions.
Colored bulbs strung overhead between temporary poles cast pools of red,
blue, and yellow light across the pathway after dark, while during daylight
hours the bare bulbs hang like strange fruit against the sky. Cigarette
butts, ticket stubs, and the occasional piece of carnival prize detritus
accumulate in the corners where the path meets attraction fencing, swept
there by the New England wind that carries with it the distant sound of
calliope music and the mechanical groaning of aged ride machinery./span>/spanIt is morning/span>/span50F(10C) degrees, and there are clear skies. The mist is heaviest At Birch and Hart/span>/spanMaking her own way over to a bench, Ekaterina settles herself, her rifle set beside her, leaning against the seating- This is New Haven, after all.
Tessa tucks a foot under herself as she sits on a bench, making herself comfortable, eyes on Tenzin.
“My thanks to you, friends, for taking a moment of peace to sit with me,” Tenzin expresses humbly to those present. Rather than a lotus position in the trampled dirt, he has chosen to pause on this spacious wooden bench facing the multicolored ferris wheel. Though he has no gun, his staff remains ever at his side.
“It is a Saturday morning, and many of you will be resting today,” the monk says, gaze briefly distracted by Tamar at the dirt carpark. He smiles slightly, and keeps speaking to those with him. “Acknowledge it. You need not plan anything for the day. You can simply be.”
“Let us begin by finding our breath, and focusing on a mindful inhale… and exhale.”
Tessa rolls her shoulders back, straightening her spine, but something interrupts her breathing. It’s subtle, though, and she recovers almost immediately, though the catch is audible, should any have been paying that close of attention.
Tamar lingers in the car park, seeming to wait for some sign or acknowledgement from Tenzin. It is only once she’s been noticed that the girl heads over to the others, looking fresh from the shower but also rather worn. Without a word she seats herself down on the bench next to Tessa and watches the others breathing.
Noticing Tamar as she makes her way towards the small group of Ekaterina, Tenzin and Tessa sat on the bench observing the wheel, Ekaterina raises a hand in greeting, motioning to Tamar in a wave for the younger woman to join them.
As Tamar is already making her way over however, her fingers lower, settle in to her lap and as Tenzin instructs, she leans in to the bench, back straight, hands in her lap, and begins to focus on her breathing.
Tenzin breaks his own concentration as Tamar approaches, to briefly stand and give her one of his respectful head bows. “Welcome, friend.” His eyes never quite land on her, not even when he retakes his seat.
“You must be wondering, why here? It is such a noisy place, full of movement and distraction,” the monk guesses. His tone is ever patient, leveled. “See how the world around us moves with noise and color; and yet, even here, there is room for stillness.”
“And when you are still, you notice what you did not before,” the nomad gently guides, looking beyond their gathering. “Take a step outside yourself and simply observe. Exist here with them.”
The Faireground is not too crowded at this hour. It is mostly tourists, eager to explore before the lines grow long. People, young and old, ready for sweater weather walk through the spacious grounds.
“Find one thing outside of yourself to focus kindly on,” Tenzin instructs them to do the same. “Please share with us — what do you see?”
Tessa glances aside to Tamar, as though inviting her to start.
Tamar dips her head a little at Tenzin but avoids making eye contact with him at all. When he calls her friend there are a few moments where she starts to worry at the corner of her lip with her teeth but then tries to close her eyes and relax, matching her breathing with the others. When she opens her eyes again she finds Tessa glancing at her and the girl’s shoulders cringe a bit and closes her eyes quickly once more. Like an ostrich. If you can’t see them, then they can’t see you.
Thinking what Tenzin says through, reflecting on the early morning crowd without truly focusing, gaze oh-so-slightly distant as though switched off, Ekaterina doesn’t answer straight away; Instead the scarred brunette grows contemplative, eyes half-lidded as her fingers interlink in her lap- There is retrospection there, and after a breath that stretches on, Ekaterina announces, accent thick rhotic intination clear in every word, “I see innocents.”
Intuition or something else tugs at Tenzin’s strings. The man’s dark-eyed gaze rests in lidded tranquility over an elderly couple come out for a stroll. They are watched for a comfortable span, as he waits to hear from Ekaterina, Tessa, or Tamar.
“Look deeper,” he encourages Ekaterina, the hush dampening the harshness of his altaic inflection. Then, he slowly blinks away. He shares his own brief experience, “I see a man and a woman who have spent perhaps fifty-something years side by side. Their children have all flown the nest. Now, they enjoy what time they have left together.”
He emphasizes the point, “There are stories beyond your own; they still matter, and perhaps they are also worthy of kindness.”
Tessa drags her eyes from Tamar, gaze drifting off toward the grounds instead, not prodding too much at the discomfort rollin off the other woman on her bench. Her eyes land on a circle of vendors, absently people watching. “For some of these people, that kid over there getting his first cotton candy, this will be a core memory, while for us… this is just another weekend,” she murmurs, voice barely carrying to the group.
Tamar takes another peek, starting to understand what Tenzin is asking now that the others have shared their observations. “I can see a couple, maybe a little younger than me. Maybe it is a date?”
That instruction is not so easy for Ekaterina Oh, she can do it, but that clarity of attention brings her gaze alive- she cant help it. Tenzin is requesting forensics, and Ekaterina spent many years in the structure of the constabulary. (That likely explains a lot)
Not just this, but threat assessment from security and basic training sources.
It’s habitual, and something that Ekaterina is trained to do, and has been working to ignore. The mask falls, she considers, and rattles off.
Gesturing over to a couple, perhapse in their late twenties/early thirties, she narrates, “They are are not here openly. She is younger than he is. He has lighter pigment on his left ring finger where a band should sit. He’s scanning to make sure that no one he knows spots the two together- She hasn’t realised. She is head over heels. She is making an effort. Nails short,, but painted- Likely a practicle job, but her clothing is well cut, above the quality of day-to-day wear, and was chosen to impress.”
“He has tention in his shoulders outside of the missing wedding band. He has not made an effort– Muted colors in his clothing, the choice designed to not be noticed. He bites his nails. He’s nervous and it shows.”
Tenzin stills a detached smile as he gazes across the fairegrounds. He rests those dark eyes on Tessa, nodding gently. “The boy will grow up, have a career, live his life as we do now, but perhaps whenever he has a taste of cotton candy, there will be a part of him that always remembers happiness,” he fills in a possible ending.
Tamar’s words get him searching the area from his seat. “Perhaps they stay together through the years. Perhaps he ends up living by the bottle, and she leaves him because she cannot change him. Perhaps things get more bearable. Somehow.”
When Ekaterina locks in, even the monk is brows-up surprised. “Does that mean ah, that he is stringing along this woman who does not know he is wed?” he guesses of the potential soap opera.
Tessa tips her head slightly as she follows Ekaterina’s line of sight,an impressed brow raising as she looks the “couple” over. “Interesting,” she murmurs, eyes drifting back to Ekaterina.
Tamar likewise follows everyone’s gaze to the couple that Ekaterina explains, nodding her head a little in comprehension.
“I hope that is not the case.” Ekaterina considers the couple for a moment longer, then looking away.
“But I doubt it. Maybe,” here she endulges in a little fantasy land, “Maybe he is only nervous because he has split from an abusive relationship. Maybe this is new for the both of them and it is the start of something that grows in to true love.”
A shrug, and it tails off.
“A lot can change with a difference in perspective. It is my hope that your latter guess is the truth of it.”
“Gratitude for sharing, Eck, Tessa, ah, Tamar,” Tenzin bestows with a reverent bow of his head, each of them addressed by name. “The reason for this small exercise is that, perhaps, we must take time to remember why we do what it is we do,” he gently guides the idea to them. “And that is what will return us to our center, no matter what temptation comes to spin us into a cycle we cannot escape from.”
Case in point, the monk raises his right hand toward the ferris wheel before them. Bedecked in colorful lights, the giant circle groans into a gradual turn. Tinkling carnie music plays. Children squeal as their carriage lifts off the ground. It spins on without hurry for the next few minutes.
“And so I ask but one quiet question today — a personal one: Why do you do what you do?” Tenzin wonders of Ekaterina, Tessa, and Tamar, with a beckoning hand. “You may share with us as you feel is comfortable. You may choose not to speak at all, and simply ask this of yourself.”
“It is good to remember.” Ekaterina agrees, attention switching to, then from that couple again as though she knows something more of the situation that she’d rather not say.
Blinking, her fingers continue to move in her lap and she listens as Tenzin speaks, watching the wheel as it turns.
Tamar lifts her face, following the gesture of Tenzin’s hand up to the ferris wheel. She watches it turn, looking pensive about it before turning her attention back to the other three. After a little bit of thought she murmurs, quietly, “I do what I do because the humans need to be protected from the monsters.”
“A viscious cycle of penance and expectations I shouldn’t have, in things to change from how my life goes,” Tessa murmurs, a hand slipping to smooth the saniderm at her nape. “Suffering to clarify the mind, to be punished, as though it would stop…” she trails off, not finishing the thought, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. She clears her throat, eyes bouncing around the ferris wheel.
Tamar glances side-long at Tessa after she speaks, something that the woman says seeming to strike a chord with the younger woman.
Finally, Ekaterina speaks up again; To some it’s not new. To others perhapse. “I do what I do because I am flawed in many ways. I have to atone, but I must also live so that what -could- happen to others does not.”
Tenzin speaks one syllable of power to the three: “Why?” He folds his hands in his lap, maintaining the steadiness of his breath. Again, he stresses in a measured tone, “Look deeper.” He asks Tamar specifically, Why do you need to protect the humans from the monsters?”
Shifting to Tessa afterwards, he does similarly, “Why must you perform this penance? Why do you seek clarity?”
Last but not least, Ekaterina is guided deeper into her answer, “Why must you atone and prevent these possibilities from happening to others?” As the monk says others, his right hand sweeps once more to the grounds sprawling with civilians.
“What I am, how I am,” Tessa finishes her thought from before, not looking at him, or anyone, really. Her eyes track a balloon as it slips free from a child’s hand, and those shimmering, pointed nails of hers curl into her palms.
This time the answer comes, almost without thought- It’s double edged. “Because it is right.” Ekaterina insists, gaze flicking between Tenzin, Tamar, Tessa and the faireground around her. “Because I suffered, and I want to make sure others do not have to.”
Tamar glances between the others, lingering more on Tenzin’s question than those before. She’s clearly unsure about what she wants to say but eventually murmurs, “Because I am tainted and I only deserve to live if I can do some good in the world before I fall.”
Tenzin does not speak when Tessa finishes. It is as if a light switch has flipped on, and now he can see her. “So it is like that,” he murmurs out of sympathy, dipping his head.
The monk digresses, mentioning to the three in his solemn way, “In my travels, I’ve sat down with many wanderers. One of them shared with me this technique. To ask yourself ‘Why?’ five times, in order to unearth the true reason behind something.” He also remembers fondly, “I think he was an engineer.”
“So now, I ask again: Why? Why must you stop what you are, Tessa?” He begins with Tessa, moves on to Ekaterina. “Why is it right to you? Why do you wish to ensure others are safe from this?” And he only casts a slip of the eyes over Tamar before he seeks the dirt at their feet. “Why do you believe you only deserve to live if you do this?”
“It only brings myself pain,” Tessa offers, a crack in her voice, which she doesn’t cover up, but she does tug the zipper on her hoodie up more, as though it were the chill, and not the vulnerability that has unsettled her.
A frown from Ekaterina at that one. She listens to Tenzin though, and sinks in to contemplation before speaking again. “It is right because someone must stand when others allow it. I must protect others because something within me tells me that I must stand and fight for others.”
Tamar starts to shift uncomfortably on the bench, her gaze drifting off to all the other distractions of people, smells and sounds in the faireground. “Because I took a human’s life. Before I came to this world and the Vigil found me,” she says quietly, refusing to look at anyone.
Tenzin listens without interrupting. Just a man with his brow furrowed in full, head bowed in condolence. “You are brave and wise to acknowledge this, Tessa. Know that there are those such as we who have dedicated ourselves to helping others purge themselves of supernatural taint and corruption,” he steadily tells her.
Ekaterina earns his attention next, bringing out his empathetic nods. “A noble cause, Eck. But I am certain there are still layers tangled with your inner self to dig through here. The same goes for you, Tessa. But today we need not go all the way to five,” he reassures that their session won’t last four hours or even two. “I merely ask to give you something to reflect on, even as you return to your usual business and lives.”
For Tamar, the monk finds it difficult to offer much of commentary, but he manages to say, “Your continuous striving does not go unseen, Tamar. I am sure there is also much you may want to unpack there but… it is perhaps best to do this at your own pace.” That final word of advice, extended to the other two women, as well.
Tessa can’t help it, and at the phrase “supernatural taint and corruption,” her eyes drift back to Tamar, distant, not looking at her, per se, but about her, through her.
At the mention of supernatural taint, Ekaterina’s gaze flicks to Tessa’s neck.
Tamar tongues at the inside of her cheek, nodding her head a head a little at what Tenzin says. She seems to notice Tessa’s looks and immediately drops her own gaze to the ground, shoulders curling inwards slightly. “I think… I think our own pace is good…” she murmurs, unsettled and hesitant about digging any deeper into these questions.
Tessa notices Ekaterina’s gaze, and says, “It’s a mark of property, not a demonic or arcane sigil,” of the carving she wears at her nape, the clear wound dressing not hiding it.
“Did Edward do it?” Tamar asks Tessa softly, now that the topic has been breached. “It looks like it hurts…”
“People are not property.”
That, is Ekaterina’s line in the sand, and it’s as much wiggle room (none) as she’s willing to devote to that topic.
“Property? Have you been enslaved?” Tenzin breaks from the subject as well, turning to Tessa for a better look at what Ekaterina had been looking at.
Tessa sighs, audibly, at the question from Tamar, saying, “I haven’t seen Eddie in weeks, a month, maybe, the idea that I serve the Legion is a nasty rumor perpetuated by someone with a raging hatred for me that is nothing about me and everything about her.” She looks at Ekaterina after that, a long, uncomfortable moment, and says, simply, “I understand,” before her eyes drift to Tenzin and then down. She shakes her head slightly, but doesn’t elaborate.
Tamar tilts her head to one side, now looking confused at what Tessa says. “If it was not Edward, then whose mark is it?” the girl asks, as if the idea that it was someone else besides the 63rd is even more disturbing.
“Tamar,” Tessa starts, gaze drifting back to her. “You know my reputation, I’m sure. You can put one and one together.”
Tenzin pieces together what few of the puzzle he can, to say, “I have not heard such a rumor myself, but I believe we simply think the only one who could be so heartless to burn this into your skin would be someone from the Legion. Or one of the monsters that have been prowling the alleyways. I have heard someone was attacked recently.”
“But I believe our session has come to a natural close,” the monk determines, casting furtive glances over who may be watching. There’s always someone taking videos of these events. “It is my hope that you remember that the wheel will keep on turning,” he says. The ferris wheel does keep at it. The multicolored lights can be seen for miles across the borough. “It will carry you high and low. But so long as you hold fast to that one thing at your center, you will always be able to return to it; you will never be truly lost.”
“Not even when you’ve been marked by another. Not even when your very blood will be your downfall.”