I studied the chamber of the device after placing it on the tarot card. I saw the same set of lines and curves within as I did yesterday and as I have for the other twelve days prior. These curves are the result of the light from this candle flame refracting through the glass and reflecting off the polished brass chamber and frame.
However there was a quality to the lines yesterday that is absent today and was absent in previous days. No amount of intentional imagination could summon the presence of that quality. Pareidolia, it appears, cannot be summoned at will. Either you perceive it, or you don’t.
I did not wait for a stimulus to trigger me closing my eyes. With the exception of the figure in the glass yesterday, all of my encounters have been behind closed eyes. I held my hand over the device and called for [Patient Caller] to return in peace and come forth.
We exchanged gestures and greetings. When I lowered my hand after performing the gesture, I saw the visionary table was now occupied by the small cedar bowl with smoking incense to the side, and a fairly accurate portrayal of the two taper candles and candle holders I have on the physical table except these candles were not lit and emitted neither heat nor light.
«What makes an item, a ritual item? Is it handiwork? Craftsmanship? Washing, anointing, or other preparation? Is it the material it is made from or the time of day in which it was assembled? Is it the container it resides in, the hand that lays it there, or the will to see it as such?»
He raised his right hand and the candle before it self ignited with a vibrant but cold flame.
«What makes an item, a relic? What sets it apart from others of its kind and assembly? Is it the person that carried it? The person that touched it? The person that rejected it or the reason for its rejection? If it is service, then it is because of its utility or because it was used for a purpose counter to its utility? How does a common thing, as freely available as dirt, become precious?»
As he spoke the flame grew tall and the taper candle under it became too warm. The wax melted and ran down the side of the candle causing the wick to become even taller making the flame even grander. If the flame remained unchecked, it would melt the candle under it into a useless pool of wax in the deep well of the candle holder.
«Why do you burn these undressed candles? They are not required for [your obligations]. They pose an inconvenience to you. Why do they matter so much to you when they have no purpose on the table?»
He withdrew his hand and the candle flame extinguished. In the short time he was speaking, an hour’s worth of candle wax melted, ran, and formed sensuous forms against the thumb thick taper as the fluid quickly cooled and solidified once out of reach of the flame.
«What happens when a gift is given back? How does that change the item given? What are the responsibilities that comes with reception and acceptance? The unburned and unmelted wax remains as it was before: a ubiquitous plain unscented white candle. But what of the wax that was melted and returned unburnt? What of that portion of the gift that was given back?»
He gestured to both candles. The candle on his right now significantly shorter than the candle on his left. He clasped his hands and rested them between the candles on the table.
«Open your eyes.»
I did as instructed. The physical candles were as he had shown me. The candle on my right (his left) was burning without distortion or runs of wax. The candle on my left (his right) had lost at least an inch of height as the unusually long wick was overheating the tip of the candle. Great gobs of wax had ran down the taper’s length but had cooled before reaching the candleholder. A large mass, easily the size of my thumb, was now clinging to the candle. As I stared at the candle in surprise, the long wick curled such that the bulk of it was now outside the flame. The exposed section turned to ash and the wick trimmed itself.
Before I could reach to extinguish the candle and deal with the potential fire hazard, I felt a pressure wave wash over my face and heard [Patient Caller] call me back. My eyes closed and the vision resumed as if I had only blinked in surprise.
«That is not my doing. Your [obligations] have an audience. Your gift has been received, considered, and given back. When it is safe to do so, take that portion of wax that melted and ran during [your obligations] and our meeting, as you have framed these meetings as an extension of [your obligations], and set it aside. For now, only collect. If any drips comes away easily, then you will know those pieces are what you are to keep. It would be rude to reject a gift, after all.»
He pointed at the now shortened candle. The wick reignited and burned with a dangerously tall flame again. «Then tend to the wick and stop being so careless with yourself and your tools. You ask how to continue when you are baiting your end!»
I lowered my chastised head in shame. I had always seen the warning labels on candles warning to trim wicks to ¼ inch in height before lighting, but who really does that, right? Welp! I guess I do now. When I raised my head, the visionary table was clear before him except for the everpresent small cedar bowl of smoking incense. His hands were clasped behind the table.
I realized the hood kept his face in shadow despite the brightness of the candles earlier. “Have you any further words for me?”
He nodded. «Continue your prayers and meditations. Sit with [Wit] at least once per day even if you are only able to sit half of a moment. This is your soul’s prescription.»
Don’t burn down the house and keep struggling to find faith. Gotcha. “Have you any further words for me?”
«[The task you keep avoiding.] Complete at least one set before the sun sets on Saturday, or take that day to make all the sets that you can.»
He pulled the cedar bowl closer to him and lowered his face into the stream of smoke. Again, the smoke rose into the hood and did not stream out of it. The action called the color of his robes to my attention.
“Last year and at the beginning of these recent summons, you appeared dressed in vivid green. Now you are appearing dressed in robes as red as blood. Is there a significance to this?”
«The color you perceive is just that, your perception. There is a cloth over my head because I am in prayer. Eventually you will also cover your head in prayer but that time has not come.»
I snorted partially in defiance that I would be compelled to cover my head and partially because I thought I smelled bullshit.
“I will cover my head in prayer because I’m a woman or because of my short hair exposing the crown of my head?”
He did not raise his face. «Because you will be in prayer. Be you woman or man, I would tell you the same. Hair length is irrelevant in this regard because of your manner of prayer. However, those lessons are for a later time, should you wish to continue.»
«For now, only know and understand that I pray for you, [because reasons].» He raised his face. The smoke from the cedar bowl completely obscured it from my sight. «Go now. Your duties are more important than your pouting.» He lowered his face back into the smoke.
I grudgingly agreed with him and gave the license to depart.
Total time being overheated by the fiercely burning candle: 9 minutes.
The massive glob came off the candle with less effort than it took to remove the candle from the holder. The taper candle itself was not marked or gouged by the removal and the surface appeared as if no extra wax was ever deposited there. After removing the drippings, I trimmed the wick to ¼ inch. Looking at the half-inch of burnt wick that was removed, I refused to acknowledge that I was risking more than a wax-stained cloth by the large flame these wicks would have produced.
What I find humorous about the matter of the dripped wax is that I have been collecting those very cooled drips since I started using taper candles with “my obligations”. That collection was not advised in any book or at the suggestion of any person, disembodied or not. My instinct led me to start pinching the suspended cooled drips of wax and set them aside in a glass container, but other than the “lookit this weird shape” urge, I had no understanding of why.
Welp. Now I do. Partially. I know the “who”. I kinda understand the “why”. I have no idea the “what for”. Yet.