Being a humble guide to living with a purpose by solving a tarot of conundrums + conversing with missing persons.
Copyright 2003 by shorthouse. All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage or retrieval system, without written permission from the author. Requests for permission to make copies of any part of this work should be directed to: shorthouse 10314 Burgoyne Road Houston, Texas, 77042 United States of America www.allwillberevealed.com Design by shorthouse
Library of Congress Catalog in Publication Data Korthuis, Paul [All Will Be Revealed] All Will Be Revealed/Paul Korthuis p. cm. ISBN 0-00-000000-0 I. Paul Korthuis 1956 - . II. Title. AA0000-A0000 2003 000.0 – aa00 02 -0000
The Experience Thank you for picking up this collection of stories and poems. I’m very flattered. To assist you in thoroughly enjoying this simple guide to living, I humbly offer a few suggestions.
I. Atmosphere I found the best time to write this novel was at dusk and into the night, so naturally I feel the best time to read it would be during that time of day. Recline in your favorite chair with just enough lighting around you to create an ethereal atmosphere to invite spiritual guidance. Have a Rider Tarot deck close at hand. Lighting a few candles is a good idea, especially those that facilitate psychic liberation. Entice your senses. Let your imagination run wild. Breathing exercises before you read will relax you before your journey. Don’t get too comfortable though. I wouldn’t want you to fall asleep during the experience. Well, at least not until you’ve read a bit.
II. Libations Brew your favorite tea or uncork your favorite wine. You know better than I what you like best.
III. Music Suggestions The following selections were instrumental in helping me write this novel. I merely suggest listening to them while reading for that reason alone, fully realizing that only you know what music works best for you during your literary experience. Asana Various Artists Carmina Burana Carl Orff Cavern of Sirens Steve Roach/Vidna Obmana Ecstatic Chants Hildegard von Bingen Flamma Flamma Nicholas Lens Istanpitta New York’s Ensemble for Early Music Ishati Rajna Invocation Various Artists The Ecclesiastical Year in Gregorian Chant Schola Cantorum of Amsterdam Students The eternal return Arcanta The Power of the New Aeon Various Artists Underneath the Spirit of Tranquility Necrophorus Within this infinite ocean ‌ A Projekt Sampler/Various Artists
The Conundrum All Will Be Revealed is not a story you just read. It is something you can experience. It has all the elements of a story. But with a little more. A conundrum at the end of each chapter. A brain teaser that opens a gateway beyond this book. A gateway to the new worlds. Waiting to be explored. If you have the right key. And that key lies within the conundrum. Solve the conundrum and your real quest begins. The solution is simply a word. All you need do is follow the clues. They’re right in front of you. Solve them and say the solutions together. They will have a familiar ring. Trust all your senses. Use your knowledge. Be resourceful. Reward every thought by thinking. The answer will come if you’re persistent. And your prize? You’ll figure that out too. Come, your quest awaits. Are you up for it?
Fortes Fortuna Juvat!
Table of Contents introduction: The Alkemy of Being 1 a preparation of swords: To Everything, a Beginning 7
Part One: Carpe Diem! I. the magician: Hocus Pocus 27 II. the high priestess: Beyond the Eye 47 III. the empress: Misunderstood, Hopelessly Misunderstood 63 IV. the emperor: Righteously Indignant 79 V. the hierophant: I Am Who I Am 90 VI. the lovers: For the Love of… 107
Part Two: Ashes to Ashes VII. the chariot: Beyond the Horse’s Ass 125 a respite of wands: What’s the Buzz? 137 VIII. strength: Femme Forte 148 IX. the hermit: Misanthropic Maybe, but Hardly Miserable 159 X. the wheel of fortune: As Luck Would Have it 171 XI. justice: Let Those Without Sin Cast the First Stone 186 XII. the hanged person: Blood Rushes to my Head 206 XIII. death: Danse Macabre 221
Part Three: All Will Be Revealed XIV. temperance: Quintessential Harmony 235 a respite of cups: My Cup Gusheth Over 248 XV. the devil: Baphomet, Beelzebub, Balderdash 270 XVI. the tower: Heaven Can Wait 287 XVII. the star: Something to Wish for… 304 XVIII. the moon: O Luminous Lunarium! 316 XIX. the sun: Orb d’Or Burns Both Ways 331 XX. judgement: Let Bygones be Bygones 347 a respite of pentacles: A Penny Saved is a Penny Earned 362 XXI. the world: If it’s our Oyster, Where’s the Pearl? 382 rest of days: Elementary, My Dear Reader! 397 Author’s Note 408
Being that I am on my way to who knows where.
0
the Alkemy of Being
“Be not another if thou canst be thyself.”
I am an everyday person. I am common, equal to all my fellow denizens on this our little globe in space. I am on a quest.
Where it leads, I don’t know.
wonder of it ...
If I had the energy of a windmill Set twirling in the breeze Point me in any direction Then I can fly I can fly at dawn’s early light And twilight’s dusky dew I can fly through the clouds Simple and free ‘Til the end of all time When I can see Humanity of all ages Building and destroying Building and destroying Waves of civilizations At ebb and at flow
1
That is the
Launching the assault Upon darkened shores Forever. If I had the feet of Mercury The wonders I can see Journeying among the stars Asteroids and meteorites Revealing astronomical secrets And the astrological paths Of tomorrow’s generations Unable to see our sun In an interplanetary gathering Suffering cosmic battering Those unforgettable galactic runs New worlds, new horizons, new histories Forever. If I had the vision of Jupiter What insight I could have The unclear becomes clear – Foresight and insight by instinct I can help shape the destinies Of those who can’t shape their own Just take my hand and walk Together we’ll find our way Forever.
I’d like your guidance on this journey. Will you be my companion?
2
The world is beautiful to me. It can be lush and pastoral, or cold and crisp. It’s enticing and magical. But sometimes, it can be just plain boring. Everything I encounter is new. I know fear but I don’t fear it because I must satisfy my curiosity. I can’t wait to take my next step. Some would consider me a fool, as I’m usually uncertain of where I’m going or how I got to where I am. I tend to be naïve, idealistic and innocent. To that end, I cannot tell a lie. Many times I am unaware of what lies around the next bend in the road. There’s a sense of wonder about that, don’t you think? I can feel strong or I can feel weak, depending on how I get out of bed that morning … like most of us. My clothes are comfortable. I look like everyone else. That is, I can melt well into a crowd. No need to draw too much attention to myself. That’s what I say. I wear a floppy hat. It hides my eyes. It comes in handy when I don’t want to show my soul. My trousers are ripped at my derrière. The result of a foolish stumble. The important thing here is that I got right back up after my fall and yes, I can bear the embarrassment. My boots are of leather, soft and worn. That comes from treading the same path on more than one 3
occasion. I wear a jester’s cap. I wear it not because I feel I’m an idiot, but more to remind me of my naivete. I carry a white rose in my hand. I’m not quite sure why. I believe I’ve packed well for my journey. Over my shoulder I carry a cloth bundle full of my life’s experiences.
You know - knowledge, memories,
instincts and intuition. For some reason, I also carry the four elements: Fire, Water, Air, and Earth. I hope they’ll come handy during my quintessential search.
My
walking stick of sturdy rowan keeps me true to my path. Janus, my trusty canine companion is always with me, urging me along my journey … sometimes, right to the edge of the abyss. I think I can trust Janus. I cherish her playfulness and her company. Janus is quite the chameleon … sometimes Doberman, sometimes Saint Bernard, but mostly a motley, loveable, and loyal mutt. I’ve learned much along my path so far. I know I have much more to learn. I have made bad decisions but I’ve also made some good ones. That will probably not change as I tread forward. That’s what makes it so exciting. The thrill of consequences! So what have I learned so far? Well, I’ve discovered that I must strive to listen to my wiser self.
Know my weaknesses. 4
Know that
thoughtless action leads to regrets. I found that mature behavior, folly, and indiscretion can often cause difficulty and stress. It’s good to lose my rose-colored glasses once in a while and being aware of myself is the key to my psychological and spiritual wholeness is a good thing. I learned that choices abound and that it’s not only what I what I choose that really counts, but also when and how I choose. I meet a lot of people and see many places on my journey. People tell me very interesting stories that enrich my life and guide me along my way. reveal secrets to me.
Places
Ah, then there are the
conundrums. Solving these lovely little brainteasers will reveal secrets to me that will help me visit new wonders. I’d like for you to meet these people with me, to discover their wisdom. I would like for you to visit the places of wonder, to learn the secrets. Please help me solve the fascinating riddles so that we may learn together. Will you join me? Well, there’s no time like the present. Here’s our first riddle … The Bard’s two gentlemen swam it (2) + a portable temporary dwelling (4) + the House of Mussel (5) = the alkemy of being (9)
5
So what does it mean?
Is the solution one
word? I believe so. Why are there numbers within brackets? Any ideas? Perhaps they indicate the number of letters in the word? What do we do with the solution? Hmmm. Maybe a keyword to an online portal of esoteric knowledge? You see, we need each other for we have now become wanderers on the same quest. Don’t worry. We will find our way, in our own way. For you and I are everyday people.
6
Yule. Being that here I prepare myself for my journey.
Preparation
to Everything, a Beginning
“While we ponder when to begin it becomes too late to do.”
Success in any quest naturally depends on how well prepared you are to take it in the first place. I don’t just mean physical conditioning either. There’s also mental and spiritual conditioning. Another big determinant, or perhaps deterrent, of success is when you embark on your sojourn.
Timing can be everything.
Ask any
successful person throughout our human history. Yeah. Well. That about does it for my wisdom right now so let’s just start packing and we can figure out the mental and spiritual stuff later. I think I’m going to need a lot of help here.
But hey, that’s the main reason why I’m
planning this quest. That much I have figured out! Okay. Where to begin. Still with me?
7
It’s cold outside, biting cold. It’s raw, the kind that chills you to the bone. The entire countryside, as I see it from my small window in the castle, is draped in a thin veil of glistening whiteness. The trees are faintly luminescent in the winter moonlight.
I can see my
breath as I peer out. The nights feel so long at this time of year. I feel like I’m wrapped in perpetual darkness. I hear the faint crunching of snow under the hooves of a cheval du guerre as it approaches the castle gate.
The resident knight has returned with his
entourage. My room is cozy. Crackling logs are ablaze in the hearth scenting the air about.
It’s the sound of
comfort. I recline on a modest bed complete with straw mattress and heavy woolen blankets. Rich embroidered tapestries glorifying chivalry adorn the cold stone walls add to the room’s coziness. Janus, my nut of a mutt, and constant companion, languishes in front of the flames. She jerks with a start and lets out a pitiful yelp of anguish whenever an errant spark lands on her mottled coat. She will not acquiesce to the flames will by moving away to a safer albeit colder place. I enjoy the comedy. The castle sits atop a sheer cliff that meets the banks of the River Po.
The same river in which the
Bard’s two gentlemen frolicked. 8
The Orobics loom in
the distance. Quite defensible, this castle is, providing relief and security to all those housed within its stout battlements. It is the seat of power in the little known kingdom of His Royal Highness King Cranius Bellestra, otherwise known to the locals as ‘The Thinker’. We are currently enjoying the seasonal hiatus from warfare.
The cold tends to stiffen armor and
leather up and that’s something a knight can’t afford to have happen in the middle of a battle, for obvious reasons. It’s been quite a century around here. Being a Visconti was hard. Rumor has it that Matteo was poisoned and he promptly keeled over. Galeazzo and Bernabo didn’t seem all that upset over the loss of their brother.
I wonder why.
It’s
understandable for Bernabo. He had his own problems, having just been thrown in jail by his own nephew for basically ticking off everybody who is anybody in Venice, Florence, Savoy, and Rome.
That pretty well covers
most of the important people in the important city-states. As far as Galeazzo is concerned, maybe Petrarch knows something. Dante’s been to hell and back. Capetians gave way to Valois in France.
9
Normans and Saxons, and kings and barons are still trying to get along after Runnymede. A lot of Edwards ruled England.
A lot of
Charles’ and a lot of Phillips ruled France.
Pope
Clement V officially moved the Vatican to Avignon. Urban VI moved it back to Rome, then Clement VII moved it back to Avignon. Who says you can never go back, and forth, and back? No wonder the Jubilee was a bust. Good King Wenseslas looked out one feast of Stephen and found he couldn’t keep his subjects in check. They kicked his keister in rebellion. He got outta town. William Wallace spilled his guts at his trial in England after being screwed over by his own country folk. A sad day for the Scots. An Edward was king in England at the time. Surprise. Surprise. The hugely haughty and fabulously wealthy Vatican enforcers, the Templars have been defrocked and are penniless once again – true to their original ‘official’ vocation of being impoverished warrior monks protecting Christian pilgrims enroute to Jerusalem. I say official because there has been speculation that these warrior
monks
were
actually 10
charged
with
the
responsibility of keeping ancestry of their leader King Godfroi a secret. A secret that could shake the very foundation of Holy Mother the Church!
Knowing that,
does shed a different light on why the Templars were all mysteriously rounded up one Friday, October the thirteenth and thrown in jail on the charge of heresy, a popular crime of convenience at the time. The Church claims it had something to do with these fighting fathers dancing naked around unchristian idols and spewing unholy vitriol whilst pleasuring each other in ways best left unmentioned. But is that the whole story? And who got all their wealth? A lot of knights were tortured with great zeal and burned at the stake to cleanse them of this ultimate of sins by their CEO, Pope Clement V.
It seems that
Jacques de Molay, forced by circumstances to be the last Templar Grand Master, hung the big death curse on his boss the good pope while being ‘cleansed’ at the stake. He also cursed the pope’s kingfederate in crime, Phillip IV of France, for his part in this nasty deed against the Soldiers of Christendom. Funny how both of them died mysteriously within the year.
Hmmmm.
There must be something to spewing unholy vitriol, after all. 11
Oh, and we all know about Friday the thirteenth, don’t we? Forgive me, I digress. Moving
along,
civilization
witnessed
the
adventures of one Catholic Archdeacon, Ferron Martinez of Spain. Having done away with the Moors in Seville, he turned their attention to making life a living hell for the Spanish Jewry, condemning them once again for the ‘greatest crime in history’. The venerable Archdeacon’s impassioned oratory, one particular Ash Wednesday, moved the audience to violence in the prosperous local juderia. This unfortunate episode proved to be the start of something bigger as it prompted similar incidents of righteous mayhem and murder in the cities of Burgos, Cordova, Toledo, and Valencia. From there the entire situation degenerated into utter chaos that became known as the dreaded Spanish Inquisition, a fandango of religious insanity orchestrated by misguided zealots with a flair for pyrotechnics. To the west, Pope Gregory IX and King Louis IX of France finally finished what Pope Innocent III and King Phillip II started. Together, they unleashed the de Montfort
murder
machine
upon
the
religiously
freethinking (conveniently labeled heresy) and fabulously wealthy French Cathars. Church and state called it yet 12
another Crusade, only this time on Christians. Only this Crusade became yet another Inquisition.
There has
been speculation that it was not really a Crusade at all, or an Inquisition for that matter, but rather an Extortion that led to an Extinction.
Confused?
Imagine how
Raymond of Toulouse must have felt! Oh, and who got all that Cathar wealth? Meanwhile, the Golden Horde stopped coming west and no one can quite figure out why. But hey, who cares. The main thing is they stopped coming! To the east, the Turk Mohammed Ghuri left India for
Afghanistan
and
was
promptly
assassinated.
Fortunately, he left all his Indian goodies in the hands of his ex-slave who promptly established the Slave Dynasty otherwise known as the Delhi Sultanate, in recognition of the fact that Delhi is now the new capital of India. Rumor has it he built Qutub Minar just to show the Hindus who’s really boss. Lately, the recently wedded Raziya, the original ‘lady in red’ and India’s first sultana, met with deadly foul play in the jungles near Karnel.
If that wasn’t bad
enough, all her jewelry and ornaments were nicked by a milkman who happened to be passing by. What luck! Well, a milkman no more, I say. Ming vases are the rage in China. 13
But everything that happened in the past century pales when compared to the rats.
Infected rats
spreading plague wherever their filthy little legs could carry them – most of Europe, Egypt, Asia Minor, Persia, India, even as far away as China. Beady eyed vermin carrying deadly cargo that formed giant buboes on your cheeks, neck, in your armpits and made your skin turn black. It was horrific. The only saving grace was that it didn’t take long to kill you. Boccaccio put it best when he said the victims, “ate lunch with their friends and dinner with their ancestors in paradise.” The burning was just as bad.
The burning of
everything – day and night. It left such a stench. The stench of death … everywhere. ‘Ring around the Rosie. A pocket full of posies.’ To think it all started in Sicily. All that seems so remote right now in this our little serene part of the world. Yule, or winter solstice, is upon us with Christmas fast approaching.
Everyone
around here is in a pretty good mood, except for Janus. Preparations are underway for Yule. flicker in the windows.
Candles
Sprays of mistletoe and holly
berries nestled within pine garlands adorn the mantles. Tannenbaums, decorated with fruits, nuts, pine cones, acorns, tiny glass balls, and berries ensure the continuity 14
of the cycles of the seasons. Cones and acorns being the symbols of fertility and rebirth. Glass balls catching the light of the new sun and reflecting its rays back to us with greater energy. The Yule Log, one by each hearth, will chase away the darkness and keep us warm. Its power will strengthen the newborn sun as we begin another solar year. Its ashes will be kept throughout the year for protection, fertility, and to help light the new Yule Log next year. There’s been a lot of caroling around the castle these past few days. You know, greatest hits stuff like, Deck the Halls, Oh Tannenbaum, and the Holly and the Ivy.
Even a few canticles from that Teutonic mother
superior extraordinàire, Hildegard von Bingen. Some of the singing is quite good. Most of it though, is god-awful. Hey, I can’t blame people for feeling good so I say, “go ahead, knock yourself out.” I’ve always found Yuletide to be a fascinating celebration. The increasing darkness from Samhain to Yule usually makes for some excellent spirit activity. Yuletide is a time to look forward into the future with the help of spirits. Many times I freeze my ass sitting on a bull’s hide at a crossroads on New Year’s Eve, looking for a clue of what is to come. Other times, when my ass doesn’t need freezing, I just said to hell with it and threw 15
a shoe over my left shoulder. If the shoe lands upside down I hide because things don’t look too good for me in the coming year. It’s times like these I wish I had taken a chance on the spirits. ….. The Bellestras are an intellectual family, not to mention crafty and cunning. A bit shifty, if you ask me. Prone to action. However, they are also gracious in a mysterious sort of way. I think it’s a good place to begin my quest but then I don’t understand a lot of what’s going on yet. I’m blind in one eye, whilst my hand covers the other. My thoughts too sly, the truth they can smother. My actions can rumble, and peal like thunder. I sit back in awe, I sit back in wonder. Who will chart my course, and who will put it asunder?
But, hey, no complaints here. treated well since the day we arrived. I remember that day.
16
We’ve been
Standing on the drawbridge of this great castle meekly requesting shelter for the night.
It had been
drizzling all day. Janus and I were soaking wet, cold, tired, and suffering from a gnawing hunger. It’s the kind of hunger that invades your every motion and every thought. Suffice it to say we received shelter that night, with clean, dry clothing, sumptuous eats, and a bedchamber. That’s right, not just a corner to sleep in but an honest to goodness bedchamber – with a real bed, luxurious blankets and a roaring fire in the hearth. Grateful doesn’t even begin to express how I felt. Janus looked content.
It was still drizzling outside when I
nodded off but I felt too cozy to care. The next morning, around Terce, Janus and I were ushered outside into the Great Courtyard after enjoying an exotic breakfast of god knows what. It was delicious but I had no idea what I had just eaten. My hosts chose not to enlighten me.
I noticed that the
weather had not improved as storm clouds gathered overhead.
Who would crazy enough to hold court
outside at this time of year?
Aggressive birds were
flying everywhere splattering the somber canopies and cypress trees below. Their activity was quite distracting. These noble must really like the outdoor air, I thought. A stern King Cranius sat on his austere throne, judging 17
me. He wore a light blue robe with red sleeves under a great cape of deep purple. A simple golden crown rests on his head hooded in red. The hood cast a shadow over his eyes creating an even more foreboding image. Janus shifts uncomfortably behind me.
King Cranius
was holding an elegantly lethal silver sword in his right hand. He obviously has the power over life and death in this court, I thought ruefully. Behind him hung a tapestry beautifully embroidered with a motif of terror I didn’t quite understand. The design reminded me of butterflies. I had heard somewhere that butterflies, along with birds, are symbols of the element Air. His queen sat to his right, on a dull gray throne decorated with butterflies and a sylph.
She wore a
shimmering white gown under a rich sky blue cape embroidered with white clouds and a gold border.
A
golden crown of butterflies sat atop a scarlet veil on her head, shielding her face from my view. She rested the hilt of her sword on the right arm of her throne. Too many swords here for comfort! The queen focused her intensely perceptive eyes on me and asks why I’ve come to Casta Bellestra. She appeared to be a very strong, very confident woman.
18
“My companion Janus and I are on a quest, Your Highness.” All eye Janus suspiciously. I’m afraid Janus may pee on my leg. “What sort of quest,” asks the king? His voice was surprisingly friendly given the rest of his demeanor. Although, I caught the evil leer at the end of his question. “Well, Your Highness…” Damn! A bird’s aim was true. Nobody seemed to notice. “Er. Excuse me Your Highness,” I gushed, “Um. I’m not really sure why I’m on this quest. It just seems like something I should be doing.” More suspicious glances. “I’m just a fool, actually,” I hastened to add, “ just looking for answers. questions are.
I’m not even sure what the
I was seeking shelter so that I may
prepare for my quest as best I can.” “Sounds reasonable,” replied the queen.
The
king nodded in agreement. “Stay as long as you need. You may even find our Yule celebrations to your liking.” That was about as close to an invitation I was to receive from my cautious hosts. We thanked our hosts and turned to walk back into the castle. I was relieved because I was freezing may ass off out there. Janus shivered in agreement. 19
Just as I was about to walk through the doors I looked back over my shoulders and saw a very curious thing. A giant hand holding a great silver double-edged sword emerged from one of the storm clouds.
The
sword’s point was encircled by a golden crown encrusted with rubies. An olive branch of peace hung down the left side of the sword while a palm leaves of victory hung down the right.
What does it mean?
There’s a thin line between love and hate? Does the blade cut between good and evil? There were also six yellow Hebrew Yods hovering above the handle of the sword.
Doesn’t the number six mean harmony and
knowledge?
I don’t understand.
Bewildered, I went
inside quickly – numb ass and all. That was three and one half weeks ago. Since then we have seen nothing of the royal court and at the risk of sounding ungrateful (which I’m not), that suited me just fine. The sword in the sky never reappeared. Today, Janus and I decide to go for a walk. The cloak and dagger atmosphere in this place is getting on my nerves and I sense it in Janus as well. The crisp fresh air should do us both good. We head out at Prime and make our way down to the lake. At the shore we see a blindfolded young woman sitting on a stone bench. Her white gown contrasts with her coal black hair. Why 20
the blindfold? Can’t she see her way through a present dilemma? Is she in a precarious situation? Or is it she doesn’t want to be bothered by fools full of questions that don’t concern them? If that’s the case I will respect her wishes given that she is balancing two very long swords, one in each hand. Beyond the young woman the lake waters churn around the jagged rocks of hard facts.
I catch the treacherous new moon’s last gasp
before dawn over her head.
She looks edgy and
indecisive – perhaps in need of some guidance. Look to my right and notice new storm clouds gathering. I notice something odd about these clouds. They form the shape of a giant heart in the sky. The ‘heart’ is a pinkish hue in the dawn’s early light. That’s not the odd part. I mean, how many times have you seen images in clouds? I see them all the time. No, what’s odd here is there are three silver swords piercing the heart! Three real swords. The image reminds me of Binah. A sense of sorrow and loss passes over me. I feel dazed and confused. I feel like I must leave this shore. Janus and I make our way up a steep rocky path away from the beach. We stumble upon a tiny crypt nestled among the rocks. Janus found it actually. We enter. The interior is quite dim given that the only light 21
entering comes through a beautiful stained glass window at the far end. Strangely enough, I feel comfortable and at peace here – restful. An effigy of a knight reposing on his tomb is in front of the window.
His hands are
crossed in prayer. Three swords are suspended from the ceiling over the tomb and a fourth is fastened to its side.
What does it mean? Is there a sense of defeat
and shame in this place. Is this knight in exile – to be forgotten forever? Or is this merely a temporary retreat for a soul awaiting glory? As we emerge from the crypt we hear a commotion on the other side of the rocks. We go to investigate, careful to remain inconspicuous. We see a rogue dressed in scarlet and light green looking scornfully back at his adversaries.
He has the look of
treachery, cruelty, and malice about him.
Definitely
someone I would avoid. The rogue holds two swords in his left hand, one in his right and he is standing over two more lying on the ground. Are they the swords of his adversaries? He appears victorious however the others don’t seem all that concerned. Hmmm, I wonder - did he win the swords fairly or did he steal them when no one was looking? Should I warn the others of this deceitful, cowardly act? What if I’m wrong? Storm clouds gather overhead. 22
Janus barks sharply. Something
on
companion’s attention.
the
water
attracts
my
I look out to see a ferryman
carrying a grieving woman and child across the lake. The ferryman is dressed in brown and blue. The woman is in brown. The child is in purple. There are six swords standing in the boat with the people. It is a sorrowful sight.
Where are they going?
Or what is it they’re
leaving? A difficult situation, perhaps? I wish them well on their journey. One thing strikes me odd; the water on the right side of the boat is rough and on the left it is calm. We continue up the path until we reach a field. There is a military encampment of brightly colored tents just ahead. Soldiers are on maneuvers in the distance. The clash of their weapons can be heard right across the field. I notice a swarthy man dressed in a brown tunic, blue leggings and red fur trimmed boots, sneaking away from the encampment. He casts a furtive glance back. Cradled in his arms are five swords. Two more swords impale the ground by his feet. This guy has thief written all over him. What is with this place? No one hear of an honest day’s work around here? This guy should return the swords if he knows what’s good for him. 23
We reach a march at the end of the field. We can now see Casta Bellestra in the distance. It looks quite peaceful. What we see in front of us is far more disturbing.
Another blindfolded maiden in an orange
smock stands bound in the murky water, encircled by eight swords. This is unnerving! The girl’s matted black hair is splotched with mud and lichen. I wonder if this is the same girl we saw by the lake this morning? If so, how did she get here? Damn, is she having a really rough day!
The maiden looks fearful and indecisive.
She must feel trapped. Too weak to fight for her cause. Someone needs to rescue her. Will it be you? It is nearing Compline and we must get back to the safety of Casta Bellestra. Yuletide celebrations are in full swing as Janus and I enter the Tower Gate. Strains of ‘Deck the Halls’ and Hildegard are heard everywhere.
The Yule Log
burns. In a few days the old year will end completing yet another cycle of the sun. Then it will be time for me to begin my quest. Until then I will enjoy all the festive cheer my cautious host provides for his guests. It is Matins and Janus and I are stumbling to our room. I hear a woman sobbing as I pass a door in the dimly lit hallway. Good cheer leaves us at the sound of 24
her distress. Concerned, I gently knock on her door and cautiously peer in. Janus whimpers and burps. Nice move, mutt. I see a white haired woman in a white night shift sitting upright on her beautifully carved oak bed. The carvings are of swordsmen in a dual – one fallen at the thrust of the other. A brightly colored duvet of red roses and the Signs of the Zodiac cover her to her waist. Nine swords hang horizontally behind her bed.
The
woman’s hands shield her face from me. She appears hopelessly disconsolate in her suffering.
What cruel
misfortune has befallen her? Has she lost a loved one? I can only hope that she will find comfort and heal. I see the source of her anguish right outside her window. My heart sinks. The Yule cheer is now totally abandoned. A man dressed in orange and white is lying face down on the ground. His is partially covered in a scarlet blanket. Ten swords pierce his back. It looks like a gruesome graveyard of shiny crosses. He is obviously the victim of the ultimate in hatred and aggression. He is defeated. But is he dead? Have we failed him? Or did he fail himself? I hope he overthrows whoever caused this and finds his way back from this agony. The night gets even stranger.
Just as Janus
and I were retiring, feeling quite lost and depressed, someone slips a folded note under the door of our 25
chamber. I wouldn’t have noticed had it not been for Janus lying close to the door just out of the reach of the hearth’s assault.
The piece of paper poked Janus
startling my companion. The note’s contents are cryptic, the meaning totally lost on me. I read … Filedae Tigris and the petroleum magnate (4) + earth (5) + sprain (3) = to everything, a beginning (8)
Odd. I wonder what it means. Do you know? The celebration is nearing an end. I decide to forgo freezing my ass at the crossroads again this year so I throw my shoe (while I still have one) over my left shoulder. It lands upright. Whew! New Years Day arrives at last and it’s time for us to begin our quest. Not a moment too soon as far as I’m concerned. Our hosts are gracious but this place still gives me the creeps. I can’t wait to get away from all the deceit and innuendo. Are you ready? Are you still with me? I hope so. I think we need you along just to keep from getting hopelessly lost.
26
We leave Casta Bellestra without fanfare.
I
didn’t expect any, as I am only an every person - but an every person on a quest.
We step into the court yard
under threatening skies and active birds on a bombing raid. The canopies and the cypress trees are splattered. What a sorry sight. But then, what else is new? We meet a noble young man dressed in a purple tunic yellow leggings, and soft red suede boots.
He grasps
his sword in both hands (yet another sword – surprise, surprise) in alertness as he spies us. He must be a page judging from his grace, dexterity and air of cuttingedge diplomacy.
There is a twinkle in his eye
suggesting a tendency toward frivolity. The page eyes us suspiciously and having determined we are no threat to his person, he walks away. We are not as fortunate with our next encounter. We had just passed through the Tower Gate when from out of nowhere a Knight wildly brandishing his sword comes charging over the uneven terrain and onto the drawbridge as if his ass is on fire. The idiot almost runs us over! He is quite the image of chivalry I must say, with his shining armor covered by a ruby red tunic embroidered with birds and butterflies.
The knight’s
cape billowed out behind him in all the glory of Mars. As did the red feathers on his helmet. His visor is up but I 27
doubt he sees us in his rush to get into Casta Bellestra. He has the look a tyrant - strong, courageous, duplicitous and domineering. His white charger is wildeyed, in full gallop and snort, and straining at a harness richly decorated with birds and butterflies.
Neither
knight, nor horse, stops to say hello. We pick ourselves up and walk across the moat. I tingle with anticipation after the drawbridge is lifted behind me. The road awaits‌
28
Epiphany. Being that I learn that I possess everything I need to find my way.
I
Hocus Pocus
“There are four Elements, and originall grounds of all corporeall things, Fire, Earth, Water, Aire, of which all elementated, inferiour bodies are compounded; not by way of heaping them up together but by transmutation, and union; and when they are destroyed they are resolved into Elements.”
The open road, with all its wonder, lies ahead. Still with me? Excellent! We are enjoying a bright and beautiful winter morning. It’s early in the new solar year – an excellent time for new beginnings. The sky is neon blue with not a cloud to be seen. The air is crisp forming a mist around our nostrils as we exhale.
A thin layer of wet snow
sloshes underfoot, reminding us of winter’s grasp. The wind slaps us. Our cheeks tingle. Yes, the freeze is on; for today, anyway. We enter a great forest of naked limbs, awaiting foliage.
Winter birds, basking in the comfort of a
warming sun, fill the crackling branches with their excited 29
chatter. Squirrels entertain us with aerobics overhead, interrupted only by the occasional bold sprint to the ground in search of their winter stash. The great mother awakens slowly this morning. We had a great time in the city of old bridges. A city of grand churches and grander art. A city of ideas – home to Boccaccio, Botticelli and Alighieri. A city where Miniato was martyred by Decius; where Zenobius and Reparata
worshipped;
where
Stilicho
bested
Radagaisus; where Giovanni Gualberto founded the Vallombrosa; where Barbarossa came and conquered. A fiercely independent city where every person is considered equal. We left at Prime. Today is the Christian feast day of the three wise ones. After
a
few
hours,
we
happen
upon
a
commanding figure standing behind a small exquisitely carved table (three legs covered in mysterious symbols) at a fork in the road. We can’t help but almost stumble into him; he is so close to the road. O, what an amazing individual standing there in great flowing robes of shimmering white satin, enveloped in a velvet cloak of passion scarlet. A snake devouring its own tail wraps his waist. Odd. I didn’t notice it at first because of the 30
heavy cloak. A cosmic lemniscate, a figure eight in the horizontal position, hovers over his head like a halo of infinity.
Does that mean that the individual standing
before us has no beginning nor end? He just is? What does all this mean? The face seems serene and yet, there is something unsettling about it, especially the brows and the aquiline nose. Hawkish eyes pierce all they capture in their gaze. Cobalt pools of wonder reaching right into your soul should you dare hold them to long. His right hand wields a guilded wand of antiquity. His right arm is extended skyward over his head as if to beckon lightening. His left arm is pointing earthward, as if to ground him. The table is draped with a brocaded cloth woven with more esoteric symbols of which I’m totally unfamiliar. Seems positively cabalistic. It certainly has my interest.
On the table lie four items, a goblet of
unknown material, an ornate sword, a coin upon which a pentagram is engraved, and a small wooden club. Curious. Red roses and white lilies are strewn on the ground in front of the table. Surprisingly fresh on this cold winter day.
31
Well, you can imagine Janus and I am quite taken by the curious sight before us. Do give me a clue to the mysterious you, your insight I’m sure to love. That in eastern skies, where the sun doth rise, light all my senses from above. I’ll cherish your gem, more now than then, a treasure I hope you’ll share. With this humble being, whose world has new meaning, for you I truly do care. Share with me your dreams, peel away the scenes, I struggle to shout. O wondrous! O wild! I feel like a child, you’re what my life is about. Let’s forge on ahead, create with a thread, a quest I know I must make. No one will deprive, my right to feel alive, I understand what’s at stake. A droplet, a breath, some dirt and a flame, these are all I need. I, the fool, willing to learn, take to path, Godspeed!
32
He politely allows my brain to catch up with my eyes and stands there quietly scrutinizing me with mild interest. “You are on a quest,” he says finally, in an entrancing voice. It is meant more as an observation than as a question. “How did you know?” I ask timidly, fearing that his answer will make me even more nervous. “You carry a travelling bag and a staff,” he replies matter-of-factly, appearing somewhat irritated that I could ask a question with what appeared to him to have a pretty obvious answer. I feel like a fool. “Might I see what you carry in your bag?” he asks soothingly, hypnotically. I feel I have no choice but to spill its contents. Or rather he spills the contents. How did he do that? I didn’t see him move as much as a muscle. Yet, there is everything I carried laid out on the table. “Ah, what possibilities. intellect and communication.
The airy sword of The fiery wand of
spirituality and ambition. The chalice brimming with love and emotion. The solid pentacle of labor, possessions, and the body.
With these you can create anything,
make anything you want out of your life. 33
“I can?” “Indeed.
The question is; what path will you
create?” Oh no. My head begins to hurt. I haven’t the foggiest idea of what he’s talking about and now he’s talking about what path to create.
I don’t even
understand the paths. His demeanor softens as he senses my bewilderment, “Allow me to explain. I am Magician. I journey in a realm not visited by many. I have spent a lifetime on my quest and I am quite enjoying the ride so far.” “A magician? I’ll bet you can do some cool tricks,” I brighten up, hoping for a little entertainment. I see a slight roll of the eyes. “In my spare time sometimes. But that’s not what I’m really about. Unfortunately, simple parlor tricks for children or elaborate slight of hand are what my kind has become known for.
Not that I mind entertaining
children. No, I’m afraid my quest is much more esoteric than that.” “Really? Care to tell me about it?” I feel brave.
34
With that request Magician finally smiles, relaxes and gets comfortable, ready to tell his tale. He has an audience. “I’m actually a magician and an alchemist. My Art is ancient and has been practiced by many fascinating individuals throughout our human history. Magic, and so alchemy, are simply, a vast universal network of inter-relationships. A kind of cosmic cause and effect, if you will. It affects every aspect of our lives and all the events in them from the day of our birth to the moment we depart this earth.” “How come I’ve never noticed?” I ask. “It’s probably because you haven’t had the opportunity to tune your mind to it. But it’s there, all around you.
You see, we magicians, or alchemists
(many times they are one and the same) believe in a cosmic or heavenly influence in everything we see, know, feel and do. Perhaps you’ve heard the ancient axiom ‘As above, so below’, which means that anything that happens in our world is a reflection of what happens in the heavens above. This notion forms the very basis of magic and alchemy. “Alchemy?” I ask. Again, I haven’t the foggiest idea of what Magician is talking about.
35
“Oh, I see I’m losing you,” he noted, not the least bit perturbed by my lack of knowledge on the subject. “Alchemy,” he began, “is believed to have originated in Ancient Egypt. The word itself is derived from the Greek word, chema. Alchemy is an ancient art of a dual nature.
Put simply, it is the process of
transmuting, or transforming, an ordinary base metal, like lead, into a precious metal, like gold. It is also the quest of attaining spiritual perfection.” “So what does gold have to do with spiritual perfection?” I ask. “Gold has always been regarded as the most valuable metal by humans. It stood for material wealth, and the power that came with it, as well as for beauty. It became known as the perfect metal, symbolically meaning excellence, wisdom, and light.
To serious
alchemists gold had a both a real and symbolic significance. The reason alchemy has a dual nature is that success in the physical, that is, the creation of gold from an ordinary metal, also meant success in the spiritual, the progression of the soul from an ordinary state to one of perfection.” Okay. Too much information here. This is so far above my head that even Janus can sense my distress. I mean, is this alchemy for real? 36
“I sense skepticism,” Magician notes. “Well, it is a lot to digest.” “Granted. But I don’t expect you to believe or have the capability to understand.” Ouch. That hurt. “Do
not
feel
slighted.
I
have
been
misunderstood all my life. Besides, you can’t help but be who you really are.” Oh well, that certainly makes me feel better! “You see, I study to understand.
And I learn
from those who have studied before me.” I’m not really listening to Magician right now because I’m still smarting from the comments he made. But, that didn’t seem to bother him as he becomes engrossed in the sound of his own voice. “I have studied Hermes Trismegistus (that being the three Hermes; Thoth, Akhenaten and Balinas) and the Emerald Tablets. Pythagoras and his numbers. I have studied Mary the Jewess, inventor of the hot ash box, the dung box, and the famous bain-marie.
It is
rumored by some that Mary is the Magdalene, alleged confidant and wife of Jesus Christ, as well as the sister of Moses (A neat trick since the two lived thousands of years apart!). I have read the Chrysopeia, authored by the mysterious Cleopatra (not the Egyptian bitten by an 37
asp), who also gave us the Ouroborus Serpent (you know, the snake biting its own tail). I am fluent in the teachings of the great Islamic scholars, Abu Musa Jabir Ibn Hayyan (known as Geber or Jabir, in Europe) and AlRazi.” I’m still not really listening. “Lately, I’ve become familiar with the teachings of the cleric, Albertus Magnus. He lived at an interesting time in the development of humankind. His world was being swept by the winds of change.
Many time
honored magical, medical, and theological theories were contested, rebuked, or just plain thrown out. The Church was grudgingly losing its monopoly on knowledge and the populace was finally awakening to new ideas – thanks, in large part, to the massed produced word.” Gutenberg be praised! “Magnus was taught to be a ‘Church’ thinker (that is, questioning and not just accepting blindly … as long as it was okay with the Church) but then he did occasionally dare to look for some of his ideas outside the Church’s view of the world. That’s not to say he didn’t dump all over magicians. Just ask Michael Scot. Saint Thomas Aquinas (also an alchemist albeit with a celestine bend) was among his students. Dante admired him. He said he saw Magnus in heaven, not in hell.” 38
That’s a relief! And Dante should know. “Magnus studied alchemy (did the pope know?), and wrote extensively on the subject. He believed, like many alchemists, that magic was achieved by effecting the inner and the outer, by completing a circuit that puts the individual into a dynamic relationship with the whole universe.” Here we go with that ‘As above, so below’ thing again. “It has been said that Magnus even created an automaton, a droid to be his servant. This ‘being’ was shaped like a man and created with the help of stars. It also spoke. So much so, that the studious (and most pious) Thomas Aquinas destroyed it because he couldn’t get a moment’s peace with all that chatter going on.” What an unsaintly thing to do. “Christendom didn’t mind though.
I mean the
nerve of Magnus, a mere man of the cloth, playing god by creating a being in the first place!” What nerve indeed! “There’s
been
some
disagreement
within
Christendom as to Magnus’ legitimacy as an alchemist. Church scholars contend that he was a Dominican, a theologian who could not have possibly been remotely
39
involved in the secrets of the occult. They believed it so much that Magnus was made a saint.” So, what about all those books (one of them being the ‘Libellus de Alchymia’) he wrote on alchemy? Must we forget about them? I guess we can’t have a saint running with the devil. God forbid! A saint and a sinner all rolled into one. Interesting concept. Who do you believe? “I have read about Nicholas and Perrenelle Flamel’s adventures with the Book of Abraham the Jew and the Philosopher’s Stone.” “The Philosopher’s Stone?” I ask. Hurt feelings aside, my interest peaks once again. “Oh yes. The Philosopher’s Stone, along with the Elixir of Life is what every alchemist seeks.” Sounds big. “Alchemists believe that everything in the universe is linked together by a spirit. They believe that this spirit can be reproduced into a magical substance – the Philosopher’s Stone. Add the Stone to any ordinary metal and voilà, gold. Use the Stone as a medicine (The Elixir of Life) and voilà, a miraculous cure - maybe even immortality!” Sounds really big.
40
“So you see, through my studies of have become quite the expert on magic and alchemy.
I
believe I am well qualified to show you all the paths you can take on your quest. You are only limited by your imagination.” Sounds a little full of himself. “In fact, I am today’s leading authority on magic and alchemy.” Really. “You may get an argument from a rather contemptible colleague of mine who fancies himself the leading expert.
But then he’d think so because he
believes he’s the leading expert on just about everything, the bombastic fool. actually.
He thinks quite a lot of myself,
So much so, he changed his name to
emphatically announce to the world that as a doctor he think himself greater than, or beyond, an esteemed Roman physician – not a cool thing to do in the early sixteenth century. I daresay, his real name suits him better but then who am I to judge.” Quite. “However contemptible, I am reluctant to admit this colleague of mine can afford to be arrogant.
In
addition to being an accomplished magician, he is one damn fine physician (although he very seldom bathed) 41
with ideas few were smart enough to understand at the time.
He
is
an
accomplished
astrologer,
an
anthroposophist, a theologian, a mystic, an author (ten volumes on alchemy alone), a drunk, and a traveler. The traveling part being because he manages to tick off a lot of people a lot of the time. I mean I really ticked them off, to the point (life threatening) where I had to leave town on very short notice on more than one occasion. Despite putting his foot regularly in his mouth he does have a lot of interesting things to say. It’s how he says them that give his feet (and the feet of many others) a lot of work. Sounds like someone I’m not keen on meeting. “As a thinker, he, like myself, must live within the confines of the rational medieval mind, that is the belief that reason and faith are woven into one, based primarily on logic rather than on experience, and totally supported by the authority of the Church, Aristotle, and Plato. We believe the Christian god to be our best doctor for god alone made our health. Our bodies are the repositories of our souls so a good physician must treat both the physical and the spiritual to cure us of illness and to keep us healthy. The stars and the planets influence us physically and that harmony in one means harmony in the other. Last but certainly not least, nature influences 42
our bodies and our souls. Nature, in tandem with the spiritual arcanum provides all the harmonious mixtures of ingredients required for any effective medicine to cure any illness. So you see, the good doctor must also be a good theologian, a good astrologer, and a good alchemist. Accepting things because the Church says it’s the logical thing to do is really not either of our style. We need to experiment and to experience, especially when it comes to developing new cures for illnesses. How else are we to learn? Hmmm. You make a good case. “Unfortunately,
my
irreverent
colleague
challenged logic and the generally accepted teachings of the ancients (notably burning the works of the esteemed Roman physician Galen) when those teachings didn’t make sense and he could arrogantly prove that those teachings didn’t make any sense.
This is where he
would run afoul of the prevailing way of thinking of his peers (that and the fact that he can be a totally obnoxious lout.), the useless lot that they are. To him, alchemy is more than simply turning lead into gold. It’s about perfecting nature and perfecting humankind. This too defied the orderly thought process of his peers who just accepted things as they are … in their flawed state.” The guy has stones I’ll give him that. 43
“Alas, his lifestyle finally will catch up with him. It is rumored (from the other side) that he will die in a tavern in Salzburg while tying one on, again. Foul play will be suspected but never proven. Such a waste of a great mind.
Too bad the same can’t be said of his
mouth, though.” Yes, what a waste of a great mind. A great mind housed in a rather offensive package. “So what about you?” I ask, really curious after that story. “Me? I am truly what one would describe as a Renaissance man, being a knighted soldier in Italy, a rebel in Gerona, and a professor at Turin, Pavia, Cologne, Geneva and Fribourg.
Being a theological
representative at the Council of Pisa and a convict in Brussels. Being an author of notoriety and a physician to the Duchess Louise of Savoy. Being a magician in the Dark Art, a freemason, and an accomplished alchemist. All during my abbreviated visit on this globe. I have seen feast and I have seen famine. I too, have a big mouth (usually the cause of my feast or famine, depending on what came out of it) what’s more, I sold out.” Oh no, not another one!
44
“I am a dynamic person with a brilliant mind exhibiting creativity and organization in whatever the endeavor.
Always exploring, endlessly thirsting for
knowledge and wisdom, and always trying to reach the higher levels of consciousness. I strive to accomplish what I set out to do no matter how difficult the road becomes because I know that confidence, effort, and willpower are all I require to be successful. Believe me we’ve seen the effort haven’t we? And the confidence can become so intense it really ticks people off. “Sometimes, I can be too clever and vindictive for my own good, getting even with anyone whom I feel has wronged me. I can be destructive in my quest for vengeance.” Remind me never to get on your bad side. “I am an expert on the Kabbalah, on black magic, on divination, on dream analysis, on necromancy, on numerology, geomancy, aeromancy, pyromancy, hydromancy, and on, and on, and on. Actually, I wrote the book on all of it.
And they were not just hollow
words, my friend. Oh no.
I practiced what I preached.
One time, I remember, I had a guest (a boarder, actually – that cash strapped thing again) in my house. I told him he had the run of the place except don’t mess with my 45
magic. Of course, human nature being what it is, he messed with my magic. He happened on one of my magical phrases, uttered it and inadvertently summoned the devil.
Naturally, the devil killed him because my
conjuring boarder wasn’t standing within a requisite circle of protection against evil spirits. What a disaster! Not only had my boarder died horribly; that revenue stream dried up. And, I needed to find a way to absolve myself of a crime I didn’t commit, and keep all my magical secrets away from the authorities (church and state) when they came around sniffing for clues to determine what actually happened. I had no choice but to make this unfortunate death go away. So I conjured up the devil again and embodied the cadaver of my boarder with a spirit from the other side. I instructed the now animated corpse to leave my house, walk around town for a few hours and then drop dead (again) from an apparent heart attack. What else was I to do?” Well, I guess that might be a logical course of action, you being a magician and all.
It’s a creative
solution anyway. Magician continues his story, in the midst of my musing. “I believe that God is the Universe and that we are created in God’s image. So, humankind is a copy of the Universe, a small version of it, if you will. I’m nuts 46
about numbers.
I believe there is a raison d’etre for
each and every one of them, no matter how large. Number five is one the most magical of all numbers because it forms one of the most magical of figures – the pentagram (a handy little thing to have when warding off demons). But isn’t it also the sign of the devil? Oops! I’m getting a little ahead of myself here. That’s a story for another chapter. “I believe in the nobility of the female,” Magician continues, “and the superiority of women and I stated so emphatically, much to the alarm of the local Franciscans who proceeded to run me out of town (Ghent) for uttering such rubbish (their perspective, not mine). Okay. Okay. I did the ‘female superiority’ thing mostly for the money and to curry favor with Margaret of Austria. My treatise is dedicated to the ‘divine Margaret, the august and very clement princess’. I didn’t get the money or the favor.” Outfoxed yourself eh? Serves you right. “To me magic is powerful, a mystery of knowing things most secret – their nature, their characteristics, their relationships and their effects on other things. It is not diabolical, but a practical guide to the mystical quest for God.
Magic is philosophy, physics, mathematics, 47
chemistry
and
theology,
all
rolled
into
one.
Unfortunately, I was forced to change my mind about the occult and reduce my magical beliefs to rubble in order to save my sorry Christian ass (well, stomach actually).” Oh how the mighty (and hungry) do fall. “You see, when I was young and idealistic scholar I believed that we are all able to work miracles by our ability to think. I also believe that Adam and Eve had sex and that a convent is nothing short of a front for a brothel with a nun being no more than a whore in drab clothing. You must admit, it can be pretty enticing to think about what kind of body is really under all that drapery. Hmmm. I’ve often wondered why convents were located so close to monasteries.
Naturally, my
musings were frowned upon by the clergy - who pretty well dictated what society thinks since only the clerics (and some of us heretics) could read and write. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised as my ideas were even more radical than the ideas of that radical Martin Luther (who, by the way, posted his ninety-five theses of religious reform on a church door in Wittenberg, not far from where I was lecturing at the time). Years later, in order to put food in my stomach, I disagree, and worse, recant everything I preached as a young man that is, our every
48
thought is vain and vanity is a sin. What, a person can have a change of heart, can’t he? I don’t know, can he? “Well, here’s the kicker.
Just when my sorry
Christian ass gains some respectability and I’m eating well again, disaster strikes (as it has so often before). Due to circumstances beyond my control (namely, lack of money) my earlier works were published after my public recantation of those very same ideas! Naturally, I ticked off Holy Mother the Church once again, and confused the hell out a lot heretics as well. Didn’t do wonders for my career or my stomach. The fact that I recanted
every
word
of
it
doesn’t
diminish
my
achievement does it? I’m afraid I’d be foolish to tackle that one. Would you like to try? Perhaps a change in career to politics, O Creative One? That night I lay awake going over all what I had heard that day. My mind is racing through a course of confusion and euphoria. I possess everything I need to create whatever it is I desire. Great idea but how do I pull it off? Any thoughts? I look at Janus sound asleep and find little inspiration there. All is quiet around me save for the machinations of my mind. I turn to meditate upon the glowing ember of a dying fire and slowly sink 49
into a restless sleep.
My dreams are a theater of
disconnected thoughts and strange words.
A riddle
keeps haunting me… Kahmeeschetookehewup (4) + consume (3) + petty quarrel(4) = Hocus Pocus (7)
What does it mean? What kind of word is Kahmeeschetookehewup? And the numbers in the brackets? What do they mean? Do they tell us the number of letters of another word the riddle describes? Sounds plausible. Argh! This is so frustrating. What do I do with this? And who the hell was that magician, anyway? Do you know? Why do I keep thinking? ‘The path I take is the path I make?’
50
I am an everyday person. I am common, equal to all myy fellow denizens on this our little g globe in space. I am on a quest. Where it leads, I don’t know. That is the wonder of it. I’d like your guidance on this journey. Will you be my companion? The world is beautiful to me. It can be lush and pastoral, or cold and crisp. It’s enticing and magical. But sometimes, it can be just plain b i boring. Everything I encounter is new. I know fear but I don’t fear it because I must satisfy my curiosity. I can’t wait to take my next step.