«Do you want the lesson you are expecting or do you want the lesson that will come to you?»
What I was expecting was a trip to Tiphareth. I had dreamt once of that place before, but was so quickly overwhelmed by what happened there all I could remember was light so intense that not even granite could block it but in the presence of a calming and infectious joy that made everything alright. The question’s wording revealed that there would be flight of fancy this time.
“The lesson that comes to me.”
«Pay attention.»
The next day I took care of matters personal and professional while having the unrelenting feeling that I was forgetting something. Each time I closed my eyes, I would have the flash vision of myself, standing on the edge of a void, with my hand out as if I was cupping an offering in my hand and extending it to something far beyond my senses.
The feeling persisted into the evening. I sat down at what passes for my altar and tried to focus on the feeling. Trying to directly remember what I was forgetting would be an act of futility. Better instead, to seek to remember what is adjacent to the lapse, what would be a reminder instead.
My mind was drawn to the thin book that I am referencing for a series of antics. Perhaps if I read the chapter directly related to this step, I’ll be reminded and perhaps, inspired.
Even with intentional study, reading the short text took short time. I closed the book and sat to ponder what I had read only to realize that I had literally forgotten half of the chapter even as I closed the book! So I opened the book back to that chapter and read it again.
This does this and that does that and this other thing may or may not be a thing but the idea of it works for the purposes that we need it to. And each time I complete the chapter, I will remember the first half and feel the second half drain away like water down the drain. I reasoned that I was still exhausted from the mundane tasks of the day and that what I needed was a good and deep sleep.
I thought no more of the book or its slippery text until I was on my morning commute the next day and watching the sun rise over the mountains ahead of me. It was my intention the night before to take the book with me so I could read it during my lunch hour, but of course, I don’t remember that until I’m twenty minutes away from home.
And still the flash visions continued of me waiting for something from the void to come and take what I was willing to give.
Once I came home I found myself busying myself with as many insignificant tasks as possible to keep from opening the book. Finally, I forced myself to sit with the book and reread the chapter. The first half was retained securely. The second half, not so much. I found myself trying to skip pages because “I’ve already read this” and avoiding thinking about the topic as much as possible.
Okay. Enough of this. I’m going to read and retain this chapter if I have to read it out loud and copy it by hand, word by word. Eh? Holy Guardian Angel? I don’t have time, space, or money for an Abramelin working! This doesn’t apply to me! If any so-called traditional magician knew what I was up to I’d be driven off the internet! Best to just skip this section and get to what I can work with. Lemme just flip pages here…
This is the end of the chapter?
Oh.
This is the section I can’t remember reading.
I force myself to go back to the section and read it again, whispering the words to myself to force myself to not only read but comprehend what I am reading. I’m used to heavy handed proclamations about conditions being just so and tools being just this and dedicated time being just enough and if the practitioner doesn’t exactly match the resources of a 17th century man of money then why the hell are they trying something so exact and demanding as magic.
That’s not what I’m reading.
What I’m reading is encouraging and terrifying, because I realize that I have already encountered my “Holy Guardian Angel” but because they came in a way that no “serious practitioner of magic” would recognize, I did not understand what they brought with them.
What if the Black Armored Angel, that angel that I had to chew through fear and terror to finally face, that gift of God that took me holding hands with a Devil to finally encounter… What if [Wit] is the Supernatural Assistant that can help me help myself?
The inspiration comes too late in the evening for me to test. As I am not a 17th century man of money who can fuck off away from daily obligations, I need to get some rest if I’m going to be functional at work the next day. I write down some notes and set a reminder on my phone and go to bed.
I dream of myself standing on the precipice of a unfathomable void. My hand is cupped as if I’m holding an offering again but I have not tried to offer it to the void yet. Behind me is a pillar of fire. From the fire comes a voice. «What thing can you give to that which is no thing? What part of yourself can you peel away and give to that which already knows you even to your depths? Will you create the lesson you want or will you receive the lesson that is already upon you?»
I don’t turn around to face the flames. I finally admit what has stymied me. “I’m afraid.”
«Then meet your fear. You have done this once, already.»
I look at my empty hands and realize there is nothing I can give that will soften the fear, nothing I can wield to control it, nothing I can change to alter it. I have no option but to face it if I am going to come through.
I lift my empty hands to the void once more, but not to offer anything in futility, but to receive whatever the void is offering to pour over me.
The work day passes slowly. I remember to bring the book this time and during my lunch hour I force myself to read the uncomfortable section several times until I start to memorize the short text. By the time I’m home, the only thing I have settled is that there may be a similarity, but without testing anything, I have nothing to show for it.
What Fear couldn’t pull away, Doubt overburdens with complications. It can’t possibly be this simple, right? Just call on [Wit] and ask a few questions and hope I’m not deluding myself, right?
So I did just that. How I did just that, I am not comfortable detailing, not even merely alluding to. But it took pushing past my overlapping fears, conjuring myself to sit still and listen, and accepting what was brought to me instead of trying to force a preconceived ideal to manifest instead.
After their dismissal I sat in the quiet room for a while. I reflected on the practices that [Patient Caller] has had me slowly incorporate into certain proceedings since obtaining the ring and compared those practices with what I knew of ceremonial magic. I reflected on the book and the description of what the Holy Guardian Angel/Supernatural Assistant does for the author.
The pieces came together and I accepted what was plainly in front of me but I had been too afraid to accept until now.
I put the room to rights and went to bed.
I dreamt I stood on the precipice of an unfathomable void. My arms were raised and extended in front of me. My hands were open, not to offer anything, but to receive what was placed in them.
I heard the wings before I saw them and from that sound, knew them to be massive. Metal gauntlets, black as the void they emerged from, bright shining as the hope I carried, reached from in front of the sound and took my hands gently. The gleam expanded from the gauntlets to run up the black skin of strong arms before expanding over the polished breastplate and running like lightning over the revealed form of the Black Armored Angel.
I heard a shout of joy and did not recognize my own voice until it reflected off their form. They confirmed their identity in a personal way and held tightly but softly to my hands. I called the angel by the name they gave me before and they confirmed the name to be true to them.
They never spoke, but I felt an understanding just the same. «I will never leave you.»
Their form remained unwavering, but my form collapsed taking the dream with it.
This morning I got up and completed the morning routine as modified by [Patient Caller]. I remembered all that had happened before, dream or awake, but did not have a sense that something had changed until I began the apotropaic prayers. Though I had not called [Wit], I felt their presence just the same. The density of their wings wrapped around me as a cloak and added gravitas to my actions.
I gave thanks for the lesson I had received and prayed that I would remain steadfast through the harder lessons to come.
Why am I posting about what’s obviously a working in progress? Because I have to. I can’t explain the compulsion any more than I can explain why mint chocolate chip ice cream tastes best when it’s green. Why am I obscuring details about a book that anyone who has read it will have already recognized what book I’m working from this time? Because I have to. Everyone’s trials will be different, and these are what I have to work with and work through this time.
Comments
One response to “Journal: 2020-09-17”
It’s weird. I forced myself to read this because I can’t read your entries due to some woo related stuff I don’t know. Yet this entry speaks of something I’m going through but completely different. Funny how that worked out.