Shortly after dawn I sat facing east and tried not to cry as for all the words I have in me, I could not assemble any collection of them into a prayer appropriate for the time or direction. I know the spirit said that if I could not find words to say, that sitting quietly to mark the moment would be acceptable. My vacuous head disagreed with him.
The moment passing, I took advantage of not having to be anywhere soon to take my time setting up and performing the morning’s obligations without anything “unexpected” happening. Segueing to the summoning of [Patient Caller] also went according to script except for a flash of movement in the reflection of the device’s chamber shortly after speaking the summoning words.
If I allowed my imagination to run away with me, it was as if I spied the elbow and arm of a person seating themselves at a table that one could barely see the surface of through the glass. But that would be a reach, wouldn’t it.
After distracting myself with the visual, I felt the usual pressure on my face and the impetus to close my eyes. As I had a question I wanted to ask the spirit before he launched into his pontifications, I closed my eyes and leaned into the vision as much as possible without losing the vision.
“I need help with my prayers. Sitting still and silent still isn’t enough. Give me something to build on. What words can I start with that will have substance? Sitting in silence is the emptiest gesture I have ever laid. And all my words are hollow. Tell me what to say, please.”
«No. That would remove the power from the prescription. Each prayer you make, verbal or not, anchors you in this world a little more. Each prayer causes you to make a mark upon the world and causes the world to make a mark upon you. Have you forgotten your species is diurnal? Though you labor hidden away from sunlight for most of your waking hours, as long as you live, you are still powered by the sun. And you still live! Or have you forgotten what you requested my assistance with during this month’s lessons.»
«Each prayer is a spark of light in the terrible and greedy darkness you are lost in. Such sparks do not last long before the darkness snuffs it and begins to chew on you again. I am unable to lead you out, you must lead yourself. Each prayer, each spark, illuminates the path you must walk, reveals the obstacles set before you, reveals the unnecessary weights you are carrying, and leads you a little further through. Only your light can lead you through.»
«You say that your words have no power and your stillness is as effective as rock. I say to you, do not mistake lack of evidence for lack of effect! This darkness would separate your head from your feet if it could. Do the work, and the results will come. Take heed that you allow for results to come in shapes you did not expect. You can barely see yourself, after all. That you come through is more important than how you come through.»
He made sense, and he didn’t make sense. I quickly took notes in case the rest of the ritual scrambled my head. Though I did not have a vision of him this time, I still had the sense of him waiting patiently for me to complete my notes before continuing.
The next item I wanted to ask him about is a question two weeks in the making. What started off as a flash of a daydream, or an oddball desire that felt more from an alternate universe than anything rooted in “reality”, became a low background hum that sounded loudly anything I caught myself feeling used by my hobbies and actions that filled my spare time.
Two days ago, I read through my written journal and connected the dots to create a recognizable and attainable shape of the desire. Yesterday, I caught myself looking up local stores, online resources, and estimating the total financial cost of fulfilling the desire before realizing where I first felt this desire take root.
Today, I confronted [Patient Caller] about the desire and if he had a hand in its planting.
«You grew up playing [other musical instruments] in your youth. Are you really so surprised that your hands itch for a guitar, now?»
“Yes, I am! For one thing, that’s money taken away from the Great Signet Ring Fund! For another, space is one of my issues, still! Where the hell am I going to keep a guitar stand? And thirdly, I live in an apartment. And I remember from my ‘youth’ that no one wants to hear a student, only the master, and this isn’t an instrument that one masters after any single session… or year.”
My vision was as black as closed eyelids could make it. I still felt the spirit smiling at me.
«You have already investigated the cost of a student’s guitar with solitary lessons and compared them with your budget as is. You have already made space for the guitar and its case because you are aware that having the guitar resting on a stand when not in use would be impractical for no other reason than dust. And you have already identified the type of guitar you saw yourself playing and verified that it can in fact be played that quietly for no other reason than that is what it was built for, not to mention what volume of sound your adjoining neighbors have to make for you to hear them in your silence. How many times have your neighbors questioned if your unit was occupied because they never heard you, while their arguments are clear enough for you to tally the score?»
«Your excuses were addressed before you even lit the candles this morning. Why do you resist it?»
I have a drawer full of justifications to resist it. “Because it’s a wild goose chase, that’s what. Because I have a brass plumber’s bob that I was ‘inspired’ to seek for a purpose that never came to pass. Because for too long I allowed my hands and feet to chase other people’s whims and other spirits’ desires in the vain hope that if I gave them happiness, I would be happy in turn, and the entire goddamn world knows how that turned out. Because I have no time as it is, and I cannot carve out a twenty-fifth hour so you can relive a nearly forgotten memory of your life!”
Whoops.
That there is what some people in the way call a step too fucking far.
I didn’t take it back. While the flash visions did not have a sense of command to them, they still stank of manipulation. The matter of the guitar felt too much like someone else’s daydream, despite how tactile the flash visions were. No matter how much I appeared to be taking solace in the learning of the skill. I did not trust it.
The spirit waited until my blood cooled before responding.
«You do not require a twenty-fifth hour to take up the instrument and the learning of the skill required to play it. Not when it can be a replacement for a hobby that is wounding you more than it is healing you. It is merely a suggestion that you take up a different hobby… an offline hobby… that will grant you the pleasure that comes from completing a focused task without leeching your health as a result.»
“I didn’t think you’d know the word ‘offline’.” Yes, I was trying to deflect.
«You do. That is enough to convey the meaning. Not all costs are measured with currency. Many of your current hobbies, time-wasters, and entertainments may be budgeted to the penny, but the toll they are taking on the different parts of you is part of why you cannot see in the darkness. You have pulled away from many already, and weighing carefully which ones to return to, and if to return to any at all. But you still require certain needs to be met. [If you must quest, should you not seek a reward that benefits you, a reward that even if no one else knows about would still build you up?]»
The truth stings like alcohol on a cut. Unpleasant, but necessary if I’m going to see how things are. He had a point, damn him.
«However, I also understand the rage that comes with being herded into a position you did not want to take. Taking up the guitar is only a suggestion. You may use some other method of reward-seeking as a substitute of [what you use now]. But I do suggest… no… I advise, that you find an alternative and soon. The idea of the guitar is present because it is one that has been with you for a long time.»
More truth. Old truth. The guitar was actually my first musical instrument as a child. It was my personal choice then and flew in the face of what my parents wanted me to play. The guitar was bought for me as was promised, but suddenly the private lessons became unavailable. After what was later bragged about as one of the bigger pieces of bullshit I was fed, I was herded into picking up my parents’ number one and number two choices instead.
The guitar was stored improperly. Somehow a tuner was shattered and a string was snapped. They promised to get it repaired. There was never any money to get it repaired. Why repair an instrument I never played when I proved to be so adept at the instruments I had learned, after all.
Adulthood arrived. Complications arrived with it. When I would ask about getting the guitar from them to have it repaired, they refused to let it go because it was now “sentimental” to them. Besides, it’s not like I even know how to play the guitar and don’t I have other things more important to do?
When I moved out last year, my parents retrieved the guitar from their storage and presented to me. Wouldn’t it be nice to have it back after all this time, they said. Maybe now I’ll get it repaired and learn how to play it, they said. Perhaps, even play it for them, they hoped. I placed it on the thrift store pile to be taken away and later learned it was scavenged by a relative and given to her children.
At least it met its end making a child happy. I didn’t realize how important that was to me until I caught myself weeping about it.
The memories numbed my voice for a few seconds. “… This isn’t just about a guitar, is it.”
«No. It is about fulfilling your request of me.»
I thought about the prices I looked up last night, and the sales that expire today. I thought about the monthly subscription fees for [other things], and how long (or short) a time it would take before the upfront cost of the guitar would be exceeded by the subscriptions. My inner accountant wept.
“Fine. But if I risk going over budget, the whole thing is off!”
The spirit remained silent and granted me time to sulk and accept the inevitable.
Just as I thought the session should be brought to a close, he spoke unprompted once more.
«Do not forget to make the chaplets1 today. All three of them.»
“I won’t.”
«But…» His tone teased me. He knew my answer was not contained in those two words.
I really wanted him to materialize physically so I could choke the sass out of him. “But I’m worried. I don’t have any Cyprian medals. I don’t have any crucifixes to fit.” I shut my mouth before I said that I was worried they wouldn’t be good enough, even though I had been tasked to make at least one.
«Did you get what you could given the time you were allotted?»
“Yes.” I actually enjoyed that shopping trip.
«Did you choose the materials and pendants with Saint Cyprian in mind?»
“Yes.”
«Are these being made to fit the task you were given, or for displaying to others?»
I winced. “For the task.”
«Then they will be enough.»
I started to take a breath to refute him, but he was quicker to speak.
«As such, release me. You have many tasks to accomplish today and less than twenty-four hours to complete them.»
Would it be wrong for my prayer to be having the ability to wipe that smugness off his face just once? Yes? Fine. I accepted the lessons I was given and spoke the license to depart.
Total time trying to ignore the past: 10 minutes.
1 The chaplets are the [task] and [items] that I had mentioned in previous posts. I was not comfortable at the time naming them.
I was sorely tempted to name this post after that sled, but I didn’t feel like dealing with a potential DMCA takedown for it.