Nursery rooms, both inside and outside, has a string which can be followed back to Early Asian Buddhist sacred texts. Padmasambhava, after a remarkable lifetime and a long last excursion, was said to have gotten comfortable the copper mountain. This scene is the place where he conveyed the Tibetan Book of the Dead, quite possibly the most famous Buddhist scholarly work.
Paul Biegel in his book, The King of the Copper Mountains, softly lifts this legend and grows it into a palace of rooms. As Buddha would have energized, all living things are esteemed in the copper mountain’s palace and live amicably together. Drawn there by a feeble, antiquated ruler, every guest gives one story to the lord. He appears to benefit on the most fundamental level by relating feelings of every story, which grants somewhat more living opportunity to him. Every guest is urged to remain at the palace, each moving to a room fitting to their requirements and character: the squirrel in the gem room under the geraniums, the sheep in the clover room, the lion in the pinnacle room, the wolf, the duck, dragon…the list reaches Bespoke garden pods out until the miracle specialist gets back from his chase after the spice which will fix the lord’s faltering heart.
On first opening the nursery room, “Everyone cried: ‘Oooh!’ The nursery room had a glass rooftop, and such a large number of blossoms developed inside that it nearly hurt to check out them. ‘No one is permitted to stroll around in here…there are no ways and the blossoms would get stomped all over’; said the lord, in obvious authority of the reliance, all things considered.
The longest story, hummed and sung by ten honey bees, finishes in the nursery room of the palace. This room, I believe, is the place where I would observe myself to be generally agreeable among the scented orchids, lilies, stock and freesia. Resting among the blossoms, the ten honey bees would have been permanently content.
The King of the Copper Mountain by Paul Beigel is distributed by Strident.