Ceremonial Dips and Maternal Embarrassment

It’s been quite a day. James and I spent the morning, starting at 07:00, at the Caves of Mak’ala. The Guardians were gracious enough to give him a guided tour, though naturally they kept the restricted chambers to themselves.

Then came my ceremonial dip into the main pool. Before stepping down into the milky water, I had to change into the ceremonial robes: a fitted white top with short sleeves and long trousers, simple but unmistakably traditional.

The moment I entered the pool, the young symbionts surrounded me. They were still decades away from maturity, Trill symbionts don’t reach that point until they’re a century old, but even in their youth, their presence is unmistakable. Considering they live for around 650 years, this early stage is only a brief chapter in their long existence.

James was utterly transfixed. The communication between my symbiont and the young ones manifested as white currents of energy, like lightning threading through the water. 

It’s always a strange, grounding experience: an exchange of memory and instinct that benefits both sides. Sometimes the young symbionts sense things the host hasn’t yet recognised—subtle imbalances, emotional undercurrents, things that need attention.

James, of course, had a thousand questions. What did it feel like? What were the symbionts saying? I answered as many as I could during the short shuttle ride back to my family home.

The afternoon was spent in the garden, where my father seized the opportunity to cook over a charcoal grill—something he never needs much encouragement to do. We ate outside, surrounded by the familiar sounds and scents of home.

And, as expected, my mother spent the evening attempting to embarrass me with childhood stories. Repeatedly. Relentlessly. Thanks, Mum.