From the Grimoires of Sekreh Tian
A Note on the Skarch

Listen ye close, all ye who would know Nature as she truly is. Know ye well the
trees, and the roots and forests close, know ye surely the rivers and lakes, as
well Father Sun and Mother Moon. Know ye, if ye will, Brother Crow, and know
ye, if ye can, Mother Night. But forget ye not the Skarch, Wiccans, forget ye
not the boundless desert of the South!

The South, as ye know, is Fire incarnate, one of four bound by five, and though
not the first forgotten is often the last recognized. Fire is what we seek here
Wiccans, not the fire of our camps or the fire of the mages, but the Fire of
Nature, her destruction and her renewal bound in one! When we truly know fire,
we understand life, for what is life if not an endless succession of deaths and
rebirths? Fire burns away our connections to this worldly existence, it frees
us, releases us that we too may be born anew, as true masters of our Art. True
wisdom and understanding are to be found not in attachment, but detachment.
Freedom from yourself is harmony with Nature.

That, Wiccans, is the essence of the desert. Contemplative. Eternal. Silent. It
puzzles me as a practitioner of the Arts of Nature that the desert is so readily
ignored. Leave your forests for a mere moment brethren, and come ye to the
desert! Sit amongst infinite grains of sand in the midst of a cool desert
night, and look up then at Mother Moon. Is She not just as beautiful, and all
the more clear, in the desert sky? Look ye upon her then, and contemplate with
the sandojin beyond nearby dunes just how perfect She looks cast upon a sky
painted deepest blue with a hundred thousand stars.

The desert is no dead place. She does not breathe, no, but She lives, she
speaks. Turn off Lolly Pringle and tune instead to the words of the desert.
Hear ye not Her wisdom? The desert speaks peace into my ear brethren, a peace
most dear. The desert speaks not the turbulence of the rivers, nor the struggle
of the forest, nor even the unpredictable violence of the winds, She speaks
peace, and silence.

The desert is not an easy place to live, nor a kind one. She has no pity. The
life in the desert is the life that has learned to accept Her lessons. We can
learn from the desert, but we can also see those lessons played out before us
in her wildlife. The gila is slow, scaled, and easily satisfied. Such lizards
require little in the way of water, or even food. They are vicious, but only
when attacked, and expend energy only when necessary. They are animals, and
fight to survive, but they fight only to survive. They are poisonous, and dull
the minds of those that would attack them, bringing them to an often swift
peace of their own. Wiccans, heed ye the lessons of the gila, in battle and in
life.

Consider ye also the sandojin. Their wisdom is hidden, they do not converse.
Any Wiccan who has looked into the eye of a sandojin has seen, and known, that
wisdom. They choose not to share it, it is hidden within them. Is this not
itself the ultimate wisdom? Any who have had experience with Truth know that it
cannot be expressed. Often, such a master may use metaphor to hint at the truth.
Any who have studied under Shimotabi Xiim however, know of the difficulty of
comprehending such metaphor. The sandojin, however, deign not to share. Each of
us is a seeker of Truth, and few will find it. The first place to look however,
is not in the sandojin, but in ourselves, which in itself is the true message
of the sandojin as given to us by Nature.

Truth is not to be given, or to be received, but to be found. Limit yourselves
not to the forests and rivers Wiccans, and think also on the desert. Nature is
incomplete without Her, as life is incomplete without death. There is much to
find, but that burden lies with you. I sit here, thinking, contemplating, come
join me, and perhaps we will all find true peace to be that much closer.

Sekreh