Chapter 16

* Go, new island... *

But what could the eolis do on this completely barren island? At first, a barren island, on Aeoliah, it is already astonishing. It is that it was a new island. It was even not thirty, and this, for an island, is nothing. The Eolis adore the new islands. What a marvellous opportunity to create from scrap a new landscape, a new ambience with no equivalent anywhere? A new community of species and Eolis? A new Harmony of fruits and flowers, of scents and colours, an original blend of fragrances and songs? Perhaps a new lifestyle, different of any other, fulfilling the deepest aspirations?

Who were the Eolis of this island? We met some on the atoll of the geodes, one hundred and twenty years ago. They are pink like those of the seventh continent, but two are purple, from the fourth continent. We even know a name: Lioureline. She was she one who best perceived the new project in her heart, who better focused the energy. She invited her friends from the seventh continent, who are none other than the inhabitants of our village. There was Nasachto and Inelounia, friends of Lioureline. There was Liouna: for her, the creation of an island was the OPPORTUNITY not to be missed. She was bringing her Algenio the former earthling. There were Anthelme, now passionate about ecology, as we shall see, and his inseparable Elnadjine, and others. They had no intent whatsoever to leave their village, but the creation of an island needs people! What a pleasure to give some help! Lioureline, her, was clearly planning to live there, with her partner, and other friends of the atoll and abroad. When Eolis are on the move ...

How new islands are born? Most often it is by volcanoes, just like on Earth. Again the Eolis with their dear volcanoes. What a team! This volcano was none other than the one who was making waves during their visit to the atoll, from titanic underwater explosions which occur when lava mixes with water. This phenomenon is common on Aeoliah, just as on Earth.

On subsequent eruptions, it had formed the island, vast inclined plate of purple basalt, two kilometres on three, fifty meters hight at most, all in blistered small domes or bizarre carved pinnacles. Grass and trees were not yet growing. The birds of Aeoliah did not bothered to sow seeds in the island, and no insect had ever attempted the journey, clinging to their feathers. Why? Because a new eruption was imminent. Some trees and grasses still tried to hang: coconuts and floating cobs had germinated on a strand of sand. They were certainly lost, but seeds could be saved. This is what the birds and Eolis were doing.

The birds simply pecked. After, they would leave, and reject some undigested seeds. There were of all kinds, in a joyous medley of colors and songs, beautiful anthology of Aeolian poetry. They sometimes came from afar, passing migrants or «specialists» coming purposely.

The beings of the sea were also concerned. Like those of the firm land, they abstained to surround the island with their faery works, with some exceptions.

As for the Eolis, they tried to get the coconuts out of there. This variety, relatively rare, was important for Lioureline's plan, with its abundant production of tough waterproof fibres, very useful for the houses. So they had to keep it on the island. They were pulling them on the beach, and assembled them into rafts, because these coconuts, like the ones on Earth, can float very properly for months, in search of a new land where to germinate.

The Eolis had prepared a kind of artificial island in nuts, enclosed with a few coconut trunks. They took five days to drag the trunks, assemble them, and lace over a lattice of rigid leaves to form a solid bridge. The Eolis carpenters are skilled, ingenious, and provided an extraordinary hard work. The heavy trunks, driven by so many arms, seemed to levitate, swinging from their own life... It was a moment of happy activity, full of enthusiasm, with the beautiful Lioureline, singing and laughing, their arms full of stems and leaves...

 

The eruption was announced for the evening. They had to finish the raft. A new group of mauve Eolis showed up right in time for this, especially that they brought a large quantity of fruits with them. The work continued with ten times more joy and energy: the latest nuts were tied about at noon. They cast off moorings, and the raft, picked by the high tide, started to recede away in one of the whimsical and mysterious currents of the vast oceans of Aeoliah.

Yet the Eolis remained on the island. A little while... They did not wanted to miss the show! But how did they knew the time of the eruption? Simply by their sense of impending events, of which we already appreciated the precision, at the time of the Aeoliah shiver. But this sense does not warn them from afar. So they leave their bodies (What we call astral voyage) and go and explore the depths of the earth. They can follow the path of the lava, the tension of the basement rock, the ripening of magma chambers. They know well the dates of the future eruptions, admittedly vaguely, but accuracy increases as the time is nearing.

And do not imagine that lava quietly rises in a kind of ready pipe. No, because the previous froze in the pipe they used, and the new must blast a new path in turn. And it is not going without tearing and crushing. Since dawn, the island trembled under the tremendous thrust. At noon, muted percussion were rising from the depths. We earthlings, would have scampered off, from our instinctive scare of Earth's bursts. The Eolis continued partying, pulling their last nuts, clapping happily with each contraction. Yes, for them it was like a birth: the Earth would give birth to a new land! They used the same words and encouraged their mother the planet Aeoliah in Her creative work! In total confidence, they danced and laughed when the tremors shook the ground beneath their feet.

Birds took distance almost all in the same time, early in the afternoon, and disappeared in all the directions. Then a strange silence took again possession of the mineral world returned to its solitude. The Eolis waited a little longer, but they had to account with their low flight capabilities. They began to gather in the south of the island, on the sand beach. The tremors faltered, because the lava was approaching the surface, north of the island. But they were now constant, and a low rumble was rolling from heavens to the depths, hugging the bodies with a poignant emotion. The rocks were vibrating, the rocks were living! They throbbed in their formidable hug, in their wild and joyful embrace! Their colossal energy was even more powerful, and highly felt, in this privileged moment where their slow movement became perceptible!

The hour was serious, and we understand that the Eolis wanted to attend the following as closely as possible. But their preventive sense was now urging them to leave. It was going to be hot. The Sun diving in the waves saw them joining the raft, well visible with its light flowers, already one kilometre away.

On the island, the tremors had now stopped, and a strange calm preluded to the wedding of Earth and Fire. The sky was purple of dusk. A stone pinnacle slid horizontally, then sank gently into the ground. A small explosion, a puff of white smoke, and some seconds later a column of fire and light arose to conquer the sky, roaring, growing up, becoming stronger, splashing the obscure island with a myriad of dazzling sparks. In minutes deployed to the enormous height of three hundred metres a liquid lava fountain, springing vertically in a thick jet which flourished before falling in a spray of light and warmth... This initial jet then widened into a giant purple butterfly, whose wings were swirling with glowing streaks beating to the rhythm of an unimaginable throb, while a small group of thinner jets appeared at some distance. The island was rapidly covered with scarlet rock, and it disappeared in clouds of pink vapours and gold lava flowing freely into the ocean.

The raft of the Eolis, taken in the vast eddies of the tranquil ocean, was receding very gradually. Short waves began to rock it. The tremendous heat of the blaze went until them. They even had the chance to catch furtive glimpses of violet light in the dark water: the lava was flowing on the bottom, surrounding itself in the contact of water with a solid sheath shaped as a pillow, which breaks to re-form immediately, without disturbing the surface.

The image of the fire fountains doubled itself with its reflection in the water, surrounded with a vast aura of purple vapours degrading to violet, framed by the planetary ring. Indeed, under the tropics, it makes, with its golden reflection in the water, a full circle, from Zenith to Nadir. After the great organs of the day, the eruption seemed strangely calm and quiet, with only a few sporadic poofs, quiet like a sparkler. Yet it was a fantastic spectacle to which the Eolis were invited, snuggled against each other on their raft, shivering, hugged by a grand and serious emotion that they enjoyed. They admired, heart beating, the sheer grandeur of nature in its major works... What an happiness to live on such a beautiful planet, which could display such a grandiose power to concoct their delicate paradise of flowers and finesse!

Lioureline and the future inhabitants of the island were singing: it was their party, their happiness which was being built. The whole Universe was happily accomplice of them: the stars, the ring, the infinite and sweet ocean, the volcano... The dream of Lioureline was being born, it was as wonderful as if the colossal volcano had a benevolent will toward the tiny and delicate Eolis...

 

They hardly slept that night, overwhelmed by the great show of which they were gradually going away. Dawn found them at about ten kilometres of the new island. With some luck, they would before the evening approach another atoll in the vicinity. Lava fountains continued to gush. The day revealed a compact plume of white vapour which dissipated a little further, and a fuzzy brown column of mist, emanating from the fountains, climbing to the high altitudes, folding in a huge question mark, above the Eolis, to disappear behind the horizon as far as it was possible to see.

In the evening, they missed the atoll they wanted, but they touched another one the next morning. It was eight-shaped, quite flat, and covered with bamboo and palm trees. The inhabitants were blue Eolis of the fifth continent, who spoke only in singing. Already the Eolis naturally have a melodious accent, but these were real songs, of a great sweetness: a delicate and enchanting lifestyle. The Eolis of the blue atoll built houses suspended in palm trees, all in split bamboo blades, with a great wealth of decoration, intricate patterns of caning evoking fairy Arab palaces. These houses were collective, and disproportionately large: they included a variety of tubular passages and totally unnecessary rounded rooms, but it was so good to go astray in them! Flowers and dried leaves, pastel colours or blonde, gently sorted, covered the interior walls, and the ceilings radiated with kinds of carlines, golden or dark brown, forming amazing laces. (On Earth the carlines are stalkless thistles, which from their single flower form jagged suns on the ground. In the Pyrenees they are dried to decorate homes) Battens and bamboo tubes were holding together with an ingenious and rather complicated system of notches and dovetails. The pieces were first put in place, and then swiveled so as not to unlatch, the next ones providing a final lock, and strength, thanks to a triangular pattern. It was very strong. Roofs were in a curious form: funnel, and not cones, in order to collect the rain. This disposition is very common on the islands and dry regions of Aeoliah. They were made of dried leaves, added year after year, so thick that they could remain watertight for twenty years. Some of the houses were much older still, without we could tell their age, as they were constantly reworked, disassembled and reassembled elsewhere.

The inhabitants of the atoll were also making rafts on the same design, floating on numerous bamboo tubes, large and short, vertical, mounted on the tip of very long shafts, like arachnean centipedes wearing a myriad of large boots. So, it was easy to change damaged floats. These floating palaces, covered with coloured leaves, were wandering in the lagoon following the whims of water... These blue Eolis were often sleeping at random, in one or another of the multiple little chambers lined with pastel coloured cotton wool, already filled with the perfume of their friends.

Among the bamboo growths, there was numerous thoroughly pruned and cared orchards, clean and tidied, producing mainly a kind of blue plum, with a very soft flesh, as honey, sweet, exquisitely tasting. The palm trees were yielding nuts and dates, that they ate fresh or dried. Inside the heap of dead boughs and compost, into propitious galleries, were also growing really delicious mushrooms, which resembled to none of the Earth.

The blue Eolis from the bamboo palaces were living half naked, as often the Eolis in the tropics, with long robes of tender blue or white fibres, supple and silky. They were adorned with necklaces, belts and ribbons, ornating their hairs, masculine of feminine, with kind of large white pearls, corals or little hats made of dried flowers with translucent petals, into the delicate hues of varied herb teas.

They warmly welcomed our friends, even if they almost doubled the population of the island. It is that they were really kind all these people of the islands, always attentive, smiling, offering dried plums which needed only to be a bit soaked in water. They had impressive reserves, hanging almost everywhere in the houses, in provision of such visits, which were common. Anyway there was much more food than needed on the island.

The precious Liourelin’s nuts, and some rhizomes they also brought, were quickly tidied, safe from damp which would start their germination.

They spend three full days on this atoll, to work together, some in the gardens, some at bamboo crafting. Anthelm would have something to impress Arnophilco the carpenter once back home! At night, they went in astral admire the volcano, still fiery: a vast pink aureole was visible from here. They also had three days of singing and shared dreaming. It is that this lovely community had for important mission to share very energetic visualisations of the archetypes and egregore of Aeoliah, and they spent half of their days dreaming together, to tell marvellous stories each more typically eoline than the other. Archetypes, egregore, what is that? This means quite simply that hearing at these stories would give you a furious desire to live on Aeoliah, to merge and immerge yourself body and soul in the moving and perpetual happiness of the Eolis, or to get busy into one of their marvellous gardens to cultivate cherry plums with a fabulous perfume... Mmh?

The Eolis of this island were blue, plums were blue, and even the bananas, because of course there were bananas, the bamboos were of a bluish green, and, at night, the light-flowers hanging over the houses into coconut or bamboo lanterns, were also blue, and the phosphorescent algae in the lagoon, of a superb milky cerulean blue...

But the ear was still more in pleasure than the eye. At night, the island was singing. I really say the island, not the birds or the blue eolis who were living in. The later refused to say how this was possible, just smiling to the intrigued questions of our friends. And when, at night, came the gentle breeze which from time to time deliciously balanced the fiery sun of the idyllic islands, a subtle harmony was arising under the starry sky. Sometimes an impalpable gentle flute ran into the reeds, stealthily approaching, to flee just after; or a fuzzy harp shelled delicious arpeggios on its path... a stronger breeze awakened the ocean, and a limpid surf hemmed the silence of the night. Then a symphony of aeolian harps and Pan flutes arose of the bamboo forest, running here and there, merging with the echoes, letting a silence, then starting again a little further...

This mysterious music without any visible origin was bearing a subtle and magic vibration, a really moving poetry... We could spend hours to hear at it! Ah, Eolis of the bamboo island, how lucky you are to fall asleep with the sound of a so sweet symphony!

(Actually it resembles the wind sound in a piece called «nigh wind» by Iasos)

It was Anthelm who found the source of the bamboos tunes... Ah! How crafty! Oh, what a patience! So much living poetry, with so simple a mean! I would like very much to tell you, friend reader, but it would take the bloom off that mystery... So I do no speak, unless somebody asks me discreetly how to learn his own bamboos to sing.

 

The morning of the fourth day, the brown plume of the volcano had disappeared. A quick astral expedition allowed to understand what was going on: The lava was now pouring through another outlet, under the sea, on the northern side. The flow rate was now much lower, as the fluid basalt was replaced by a thicker variety, promising a nice strombolian activity. This volcano was in fact relatively complex, at the joint of a shear fault of the bottom of the ocean, at its maximum stress, ready to send the lava still further. At the place where the fountains arose, there was an extreme heat. They had melt their rims, letting two very deep wells, filled with bubbling basalt boiling over from times to times, following who knows which inconceivable breath. The whole island was covered with a vast flow, which was no longer glowing, but at places tongues of fire were shooting out of the still burning inside, building these little bell towers which so much puzzled the eolis, miniature volcanoes fired by the solidification of the lava into the main flow. The new active vent was under the water, only telling its presence by a silent pulsating plume of white steam. But with its grow rate, it would quickly emerge, fifteen days no more. And there was still lava for several months. Great, Liourelin would have her dreamed mountain!

As they could not wait so long, they decided to disperse, everyone in his home, until the end of the eruption. The seeds were safe on the blue atoll, where they stayed a while, waiting for migratory birds to take everybody.

 

Thus some months passed by...

It was Milareva who warned the eolis of our village of Liourelin’s call. You must not think that the Eolis travel in astral all the time, and for the majority it is even not a routine thing. Some can do this only after centuries. But Milareva had frequent contacts with Liourelin, to manage the soul first aid work. She was also communicating with several inhabitants of the geodes island, who volunteered to help the soul first aid workers of our village.

Two weeks later, they were on the new island, which was fairly changed. It was now five kilometres long, shaped like a very open crescent. The initial lava shield was covered with numerous smaller lava flows, which formed, while solidifying, a marvellous network of caves, arches, and even some underground water reserves that the rain had begun to fill. For the moment the water was still undrinkable, filled with acids and salts, but within some years it would be marvellously fresh and limpid... The island itself was now dominated by a gently sloping dome of purplish lava alternating with scoria, also filled with caves and water, with on its summit a crater which would willingly fill with water, if there was not some still burning fumaroles. The northern eruptive vent (about the two-thirds of the crescent) had as expected produced a nice pink cone, irregular, which went down until the water level, through gentle sandy slopes covering all the northernmost part of the basalt island. Behind this cone, a third vent was still gleaming red and smoking, at the water level, with even some sporadic detonations. But it was going to its end and they could stay safely on the island, provided they did not approached too much.

 

Liourelin! How nice to see her again! She was overjoyed! Cave houses, fresh water reserves, whimsical rocks carved like foam, she did not dared to dream of so much things! The volcano had be really kind with her! And it was not the end, as other eruptions were expected, but in the northern half of the island, the southern part would be now left quiet. They could start their work here.

Liourelin was marvellously beautiful, and her dream was at her image. She was (and she is still today) tall, her body nimble and undulating. Her eyes were of a fabulous green, and her hairs half-blonde half-red were perpetually waving into two or three supple and vaporous locks, down to her legs. She was bearing on her brow, like all the Eolis of the blue atoll, a kind of coral ball, blue this one, with some other smaller ones. (These balls are the work of microscopic sea beings, living in spherical colony, producing a spongy limestone mass, thin and light, white or pastel-hued, filled with air allowing the colony to float underwater). Liourelin was dressing in sky blue, in a robe gathered at the shoulders, with long mauve ribbons, the whole in a kind of special fabric, with a fuzzy aura of very thin wires: she looked somewhat immaterial...

Liourelin’s companion, Boronney, with luminous pale blue eyes, was more classically clothed with an indigo robe where wandered curls of his blonde hairs. He looked reserved, and he seldom spoke, with a great gentleness, while Lioureline was rather voluble, often singing, inexhaustible about her project. Boronney was always looking as if he was contemplating some marvel, and his suave voice seemed wishing not to disturb your own ecstasy... But despite this apparent self-effacement in front of his companion, he had in fact a very important role: to give Lioureline her powerful impulse. He was doing this discretely and delicately, letting her create herself. Boronney was a Gardener of the Souls like Adenankar, but his business was not about lost souls: his business at him was about helping the perpetual re-creation of every life, the fast spouting of the eternal renew of Joy and Wonder. When Adenankar had to be patient, to sidestep and calculate, just for a minute result that a trifle could destroy, Boronney was working in the frank and direct joy, the Plenitude, the euphoria of the great projects which always come smoothly in the general enthusiasm! Boronney had not so much subtle knowledge of the complex gears of the mind; but the joys of the Creative Gushing, of the explosion of the many expressions, of the shared impulse, had no secret for him. Adenankar patiently repaired the failures; Boronney rushed, exulting, and without failures. They had not studied in the same school. Having so much to learn from each other, they were all the more friend, from this.

Lioureline’s project was simple: to create a new community of eolis, on a pure vibration, peculiarly fairy like and melodious. Already she had gathered a hundred enthusiasts with her project, who made it theirs too. For the moment, they lived on the geode island or on the blue atoll, which we already visited.

The new island, with no water and no food, was still uninhabitable. So they choose to come at rain time, which marks the month on Aeoliah. They needed shelters, for one hundred or more, and also for the food and seeds. This was quickly found: imagine a lava flow, when the crust is already solid, but the core still liquid: if there is an aperture, then all the lava pours out, ant it remains an hollow tube. There are many on Earth, especially in Hawaii or on the Eastern Island. If they are covered by other lava flows, they form deep caves, while that on the surface may have windows: they may be as clear as houses. The Eolis choose one, large enough, wide open at one end and closed at the other end, offering a perfect shelter against rain and draughts, clear enough, which bottom had solidified in a roughly horizontal plane. It was accessible until the end, darker but which would be used only for shelving. For us it would be an honest little home, but for the Eolis it was a cathedral. The first expedition left fruit jelly and covers, which would be very useful later.

The second problem was water. They were wise to come with the rain, as they spent the three days to bale out water from puddles to fill a sheltered hollow, after rinsing it several times as the water was fouled with the soluble salts of the virgin rock.

 

The third day a loud bang surprised them all: from the main crater rose a bluish plume accompanied with a hail of stones. What happened? The water of the rain, gathered by the crater, engulfed into the fumaroles holes, until the still burning core: the formidable pressure of steam blew everything, nearby doubling the depth of this natural bowl. It was an unexpected benefit, as the plume, swiftly brought down by the heavy rain, fell on the ground in dust. Then water trickling gathered it in the hollows, making little beeches. So the first seeds could be sow.

 

The new sun found them happy, as they were completely soaked with water! But they had what to drink. They merrily spread their robes on a large rock, and... did the same for themselves. They heard Lioureline and their friends, who lengthily described their dream, with many warm hearted and moving details. They had planed something for the houses, but they did not hoped to find some already made. So unanimously the initial plan for the houses was modified for the lava tubes. It did not changed anything important, as the habitations were already planned collective. Another neighbouring tube would fit for workshops, but it was still occupied by hot steam gushing from a small crack. The sleeping rooms would be like swallow nests hung to the curved walls, and inside would be a vast meeting space and meditation place. The evening there would be light-flowers inside, and others, blue, near the entrance, to find it easily in the night. Would they choose the pale blue of the bamboo atoll, or the unreal indigo of the geode island? They would not speak inside the houses, as they would sleep and meditate in them. Other caves would be consecrated to meals or to workshops. But there they would no more speak! They would sing! The indispensable remarks would be made at low voice, or in the singing. As a start Lioureline invited everybody (future inhabitants or not) to connect on enchantment, to walk while undulating, like floating... For some, it was natural, or it was their desire: the future inhabitants. The others were already graceful, but otherwise.

Liourelin and her friends prepared kinds of small rituals, to say hello, to announce the meal, or the evening meditation, to snuggle into the bed, to transport the light flowers. And they trained, and it was really pleasant, as everything was in songs and marvels. There were only two nut shells, where two indigo light flowers of the Geode Island were growing. They were not good at lighting, but they were visible all night, making excellent beacons. Hanging to the wall, they would form constellations, and even in total darkness the Eolis would be able to find their path into the volume, so that everyone could find his nest. This tip is common on Aeoliah. But now, in the day, the shells were passing from hand to hand, everyone trying to wear them in the future manner, which was joyous, melodious and busy, in the way of pixies. They could not left the light flowers into the caves by day: without sun, they would be quickly exhausted. So that every morning and every night they would have to bring all of them out and in, forming for this purpose undulating files, merrily flowing.

A ceremony to enter into the bed... After all, there is one for the tea, on Earth! There is no tea on Aeoliah, only perfumed leaves sometimes used to make cold infusions. But nearby everywhere there is a ceremony to enter into the bed. They don’t make it every morning, but it is always a pleasure. It much varies from a village to the other: there is help, the Eoli goes first, or the Eoline, there is a kind word, or a special kiss... Sometimes it is changed, for mysterious reasons. It is a great game! On the New Island, it would be (in the beginning at least, maybe later it would be different) each on one side of the bed, cheeks touching, each one his hands on the shoulders of the other... Elisa proposed to add an undulating dance. To say hello, there would be of course the great brotherhood gesture of the Eolis, valid on the entire planet: arms on the hips of the other, forming an oval. But there would also be... Oh! Funny Liourelin!

Learning the bed ritual was really epic! They did a bed outdoor, in the sun, on a large flagstone in front of the house, with covers made of the khaki coloured hairy leaves. Then couples (improvised, of course) came in turn to try: At first it was a real fun, then a merry attention to the grace emanated by this dance with subtle undulations, which required the concerted attention of both participants in a play of unexpected calls and replies. In this game, the poetry is of course much more important than the gesture themselves. For this reason, they did it with real couples, of course. An to offer food? There was not much to test, but they trained for this also.

Lioureline had prepared a fairly large quantity of rituals, according to the various possible circumstances. But nothing is never rigid, nor imposed, nor mandatory. Many Eolis even not do the rituals, as they express freely, following their inspiration. But all learned them, and often it is to these rituals that they owe their gracious gestures, living and light, which make of them these poetical and harmonious beings, dancing, moving, funny, accomplice of life, of the flower, of the star. Life flows by, with its spontaneity, its unpredicted events, its humour. The rituals just insert themselves in dayly life, fluidly. The Eolis rather call them gestures in kit, as they are only pretexts, starting a number of variations according to the feelings of the moment, connivances that they exchange joyously. Gestures in kit also carry the vibration of the group or other spiritual expressions as well, somewhat like the universal Eoli insigna. It is an easy reflex, always at hand, to align or realign on Poetry, wondering, Gentleness... and in the Aeolian egregore. They are one of the way of the perpetual cultivation of the garden of the souls, that all the consciousnesses in all the Creation accomplish, and we should better train ourselves also, on Earth!

Lioureline rituals were magical. For so long she waited for her island, that she had time to prepare everything in details.

They spent two or three very pleasant days, funny, poetical and galvanizing, just rehearsing those sweet little rituals. But they also devoted much of their nights to another work: a nice meditation, spreading a kind of appeal to the consciousness of the living nature, the future spirits of the place. They would come anyway, but it was better to give them early the tone for the future landscape.

After three days, water and food being limited, they began to disperse on the neighbouring islands, or to return to the villages, not without seeing some birds already landing on the purple pinnacles.

 

To live on the new island, they would need crops and adequate plants, including the special fuzzy cotton that presently Lioureline got from an island as big as France, that we may perhaps visit in another book. They had to choose among the million varieties of Aeolian plants, the ones which could grow and live together on this ground, the ones which will better contribute to the enchanting and melodious atmosphere of the island. In terms of intellectual ecology, it would be a colossal task, but the birds, as usual, would naively accomplish most of it, without realizing its complexity. It was enough to invoke the vibration they wanted. The general plan of Aeoliah already provided everything for the automatic adjustment of these subtle arrangements, but the strong meditations of the companions of Lioureline had somehow coloured it, arranged according to their notes: everything would happen with the plants as with the volcano: they would just need to bring a few dozen of particular species, such as the cotton and the coconuts.

In terms of loving ecology, it would be an exciting job, in which the Eolis play an essential role: to give the note, refine the details, trimming by concrete actions that could be inappropriate: the consciousness of nature has no hands!

But who are these spirits of the earth and places? In the West, we use to call them «Devas», but this is a misnomer: in Hindi the word deva refers to happy gods, whom we would call blessed ones, or angels. The Hindu word for the spirits of the places is «naga», which literally means «snake». Are they the spirits of the earth? The mechanics of nature, who grow the plants, blow wind and mature crops? Magicians endowed with strange powers, as in the fairy tales? Or as in some books of the New Age, where we become buddy with the deva of carrot or turnip, to get their gardeners tips?

I even wondered if they really existed, dear readers, or if they were not just an interpretation of the world (animism), a personification of natural forces, such as these evil spirits of high Himalayan passes: we now know that the discomfort we feel in these places is caused only by the lack of oxygen. There is nothing in this case which would be the action of conscious entities, even abstract.

Yet the various Earth traditions describe each a bunch of nature spirits, places or elements, in a teeming and richly coloured pantheon. They thought to explain in this way the growth of plants, decomposition of humus, rain and sun, sources, etc. But all these activities are essentially a matter of mechanics, chemistry, biology, requiring no esoteric action. The world is doing very well without divine intervention at every road turn. Yet this purely mechanistic interpretation of nature leaves a strong feeling of incompleteness: There is in there no poetry, no life, no magic.

We are forced to admit, when living in various landscapes, that some are alive, bring a beneficial vibration, soothing or invigorating, while others appear dead or unhealthy. Most people feel this, even if they say it with other words. This feeling often coincides with the state of these landscapes: healthy nature (be it either lush or desert, wild or inhabited with respect) disrupted nature (land exploitation, pollution, non-poetical housing, unhealthy climate ... ) or destroyed (cities, zones...)

Here is, beyond chemistry and biology, the life of landscapes: their vibration. Which can sometimes be deliciously intense!

Can a landscape have a soul, a consciousness? Perhaps, if we consider that the elements of the landscape, plants, nature, form a living body. (Some scientists even consider the Gaia hypothesis, in which the whole Earth would be a living being). Could consciousness live in such bodies? No intellectual ones anyway, because they would lack a brain. But these consciousnesses could still feel the vibrations, and even express themselves through a variety of primitive physical bodies, like plants and bacteria, instead of owning one for their exclusive use. This way of life has its drawbacks, but it also has its attractions: To each his own thing. Such consciousness cannot have a differentiated ego. But then, they can form a field of presence of various vibrations, without we can say if there is one or several, or where starts and ends the area of one or of another. This indeed what we feel when we meditates in nature; and the spontaneous reaction is a kind of «Hello»...

There is «nobody» in the current meaning. Even the images which appear in our consciousness during meditation are just inspirations, allegories, personifications. And yet... The pure spring under the trees still emanates a mysterious and magical presence, the deep green forest still emanates a noble and gentle energy, the lofty mountain commands respect... So actually we say hello, we feel a life, and even a consciousness...

Here they are, our spirits of the places, our Devas! An abstract life involved, not in the mechanics of nature, but in its vibration, the invigorating and beneficial energy it offers to all the conscious beings! The Eoli word for the spirit of places could be translated both as gardener, giver of life, orchestra tuner (the who indicates the mode) or tuning fork for vibration...

One of the most curious aspects of the spirits of the places, is that we can communicate with them, and even establish collaborations. This may seem incredible to many readers, but modern Western civilization is the only one which ever existed on Earth, ignoring the existence of the spirits of places; and still it had to carefully do this purposely.

So it is possible to help the consciousness of nature to evolve, to become better, to raise the vibrations of landscapes and places, to discover and love Poetry, Harmony, so that the appear in the landscape, and even become visible to the eye. Or people feel them, and are soothed or inspirited. I even suspect, despite I have little personal experience about this, that it is easier than with adult humans, much like with little children. Anyway we do not have to carry along all the so special barrages and distortions of the human brain.

(The original text contained here a long sermon on the spirits of places, that I archived into the PHP code, because it contained several errors of the New Age at the time. You can check my scientific explanations of their nature, Chapter V-17 of my book «General Epistemology»)

 

But let us come back to our eolis. With them, everything is pure, as they always wished, as it could also be on Earth if we want to. And the spirits of places are all gentlest pixies the one than the other, ready to work merrily in the service of Beauty, from their own initiative or as accomplices of the Eolis. The firsts began to arrive on Liourelin’s island in the following months, in the company of all kinds of seeds and spores. The first grasses pierced through the sandy hollows, and on the rocks the first lichens appeared in coloured patches. But years would be needed before giving true meadows and trees.

The friends of Liourelin regularly visited the island, and the ones of our village from times to times. There was already some work to do, but the bulk would be later. And anyway, as long as the island would not produce fruits, nobody could settle here permanently.

One of the first activities was, as we guess, to bring back the coconuts. It was epic! They had to launch again the raft, but how to make it go against the current? Lioureline herself pitched a kind of tent on it, and watched day and night, while the raft, at time was pulling on its rope toward the ocean, at times was driven against the corals on the shore of the reeds island. One night, Lioureline, alone, wake up suddenly, and, feeling the time propitious, hurried to untie the rope. And then she went back to bed in one of the bamboo houses where her companion Boronney was already sleeping.

The day after saw with concern the raft, taken in the large eddies, already far, but in a wrong direction! It was too late. The Ocean alone could decide now. The Aeolian Ocean, the magical Telerion, so calm that sometimes we can see the stars mirroring in it, hides in its vast bosom many strange things that I was not allowed to report, and even not to see. The currents of this ocean much differ of ours, as there are no ice fields on Aeoliah to feed its depths with dense icy water: it is tepid throughout its full depth, and its immense masses move up and down in vast whirls, in unpredictable loops. Lioureline was confident with her intuition, and, as a matter of facts, the raft was found stranded on the Novel Island after sixty-three days and six thousand kilometres of a fancy navigation.

Anthelm, let us remember, was now passionate with ecology. It was neither his first passion, nor the last, but it was timely as what would take place on the Novel Island would be enthralling: the appearance of an ecosystem, its development, its tuning, its stabilisation, its harmonizing. The Eolis do not speak flat words such as «ecosystem» or «ecology», but vibrating words, loving, spiced words. They speak of marriage, of Harmony. The regulation of species is only a mean, the most relevant is Harmony. The Eolis, they are poets. The remainder, just trifle.

The Aeolian ecology of course much resembles that of Earth, but it also differs of it with an important point: The laws of the Earth ecology are «natural laws»... of the Earth! The regulation and the selection of species, on Earth, are often only competition, theft, murder, parasitism, what we call the «law of the jungle». This is really the ultimate arrogance, to think that only humans can do evil! Nature and animals also do it, the only difference is their much lesser responsibility. The so-called natural laws of the regulation of the species by a constant blood shed, are as much artificial, in fact, than the dis-real laws of the financial markets, which are also presented as natural! They has for origin the same fault, whatever it manifests in the mind of the animals or in that of the humans. As well as our immoral laws of finance, these «natural laws» of ecology will dissipate like a dream... when we shall awake.

Anyway there exist, or at least there existed, ecosystems able to remain stable without the racket of predators. In Australia, great animals were able to live since million of years, kangaroos, koalas, ostriches, without any predator to «regulate» them. They really had to find some other way, more human.

Aeoliah’s ecology is based on the true and unique universal laws: Love, Mutual Help, to live in Harmony. It is clean, moral ecology. Tender green ecology, not khaki green. Of course, the cycles of the elements as well as many biological and technical details, resemble to that of Earth, but on Aeoliah the species (The Eolis have more poetical nouns than our sorts of words: they speak of instruments and notes in the symphony of creation) so the species regulate themselves their population, or, when they cannot, this is done by others, but with gentleness, as we have seen for plants and birds. And reproduction, on Aeoliah, even if it remains a strong interaction, is under complete control of the heart and soul.

Even without these differences, to do ecology on Aeoliah if infinitely more pleasant than on Earth: we see the Creation, not the destruction; we admire, we are involved into life, in place of only putting posters on the walls to defend already lost causes; we build, in place of receiving truncheon blows. The ecologists on Earth will certainly appreciate these differences...

Anthelm and his friends (As he always managed to drag several of them in his passions) often came on the new island, exploring the caves and all the nooks and crannies, in search of any new plant, of subtle hues in lichen colours. They had to remove the ones which did not matched with the rock colours, what certain birds also did but not completely. The basalt had its usual web of hexagonal cracks running all through, or following the flow lines: this was good for the rooting of trees. In the beginning they would have to do with dwarf varieties. Grasses, after one year, were already forming small patches, in the hollows, and they could bring murlines, which made possible to feed a small team of permanent dwellers, who also had some water.

The steam from the workshop cave was replaced with a tiny spring, although very sufficient for the future village. They could even swim, but the water would not be safe for some years. Volcanic vents in the north of the island were lulled into a sweet slumber, and the only still visible activity was a small fumarole at the foot of the cone. The crater of the main island had begun to fill, but it would take several years to reach its final level. Other hollows, everywhere on the island, outdoor or covered by rocks, were hosting delightful small lakes for swimming, or poetic basins, waiting to form as many small worlds teeming each with a different aquatic life. There already were some algae, and even a small fish in the main crater, who arrived here no one knows how.

Anthelm was able to admire all the subtlety of the friendship networks which were appearing among all the species which were progressively enriching the island. Already some were bound to certain places, to let free space for others, elsewhere. But right now it was a matter of lichens and moss, of which Aeoliah possesses a considerable variety. It was required, for Lioureline’s plan, to favour the blue or mauve ones, and this was the job of this little team.

There was a problem, however, unexpected: the houses. They had to arrange the caves, make locations for activities, nests for sleeping. The Eolis commonly use clay for this purpose. But there was not a single gram of clay on the whole island. They had to make tents, with the large leaves of the island of the geodes, fabric, and small walls in stones. No way to build a covered walkway connecting the cave workshop and the cave house, as they planned, to pass from one to the other during the rain. Seemingly Lioureline was very much mistaken, and the projects for interior design were postponed.

But such a big mistake could not be due to mere chance, and it was probably hiding some pleasant surprise... So let us wait!