Sitting down and reviewing past events, I realize that I have been intentionally finding excuses not to go after the wand. Fear about dealing with angels. Fear about not being sure what I’ll find. Fear about the unknown in general. Fear about being wrong and that I’m just deluding myself.
Fuck fear.
If I do nothing, I’ll have nothing. The physical wand has felt empty and inert since the dream version of it was whisked away. Instead of waiting for a dream to place me where I need to be, it’s time to make the deliberate voyage there.
I prepare myself physically and ritually for the excursion. Let what comes, come.
I open my eyes at my preferred entry to the Other Worlds, the roaring campfire outside of my Other World home. The fire welcomes me with sparks and pops. Using the flames as a scrying mirror, I call up all the information I know about Verachiel and the Path of Teth. It’s not much, I admit. Perhaps a dozen bullet points if I were to try and make a presentation of it.
There is the puzzle of Verachiel’s name and how “soft” can be strong. There is the astrological sign of Leo and what personality it represents. There is the tarot card of Strength/Fortitude/Lust, and how its meaning has changed over the centuries. And then there is the Path of Teth on the Hermetic Tree of Life, and how it connects the spheres of Chesed and Geburah.
Lots of theorycrafting and mythmaking. Very little concrete information that could be used as a foundation for other things.
I realize I am the opposite of Verachiel’s softness. When Jupiter, Lord of Chesed, tested me with a thrown lightning bolt, my instinct covered me with armor and raised a shield to deflect the bolt. My exterior is not soft. My bleeding heart, is.
I would not be the water that erodes the stone. I would be the stone, instead. Such is my nature and attitude towards overcoming difficulties. Be harder than the obstacle blocking me, then break it.
Perhaps it is because I am used to being pummeled. I had quipped that a lion’s mane is soft because his teeth are not. Perhaps to retrieve my wand, I need to learn how to be soft in the way water is soft but still strong. Instead of charging forward like an enraged rhinocerous, flow like the wind.
I did not notice the smoke gathering above my head until it was a substantial cloud. In the midst of the cloud, a mark writ with fire appears. It is the rosy sigil of Verachiel. I am given just enough time to recognize the mark before the smoke inflames.
The shockwave of ignition puts out the fire at my feet. The angel Verachiel is smoke robed in fire, with the feathers of his wings comprised of individual licks of flame. His eyes are closed. I am jealous of visual artists. I would love to portray how each eyelash was a miniature jet of flame.
I bow before the angel in greeting. (What a big change from me two years ago, when I would have challenged him, instead.) “Lord Verachiel, Lord of the Path of Teth and Lord of Fortuna Major and Fortuna Minor, good day to you, Sir. While you have surprised me, I am glad to see you. I wish to obtain authorization to enter your realm, Sir, and have no way of asking such except directly and hope I have not offended you in doing so.”
The angel smiled. “I have been waiting for you to ask all this time. And now that you have, it shall be granted.” He opens his hands. When his hands are held upright, the geomantic figure of Fortuna Major is revealed on his right palm, and the figure of Fortuna Minor is revealed on his left. He gestures for me to approach.
It is not lost on me that I would have to step on the still smouldering coals of my own fire. I came forward as instructed. He lowers his left hand in another gesture. Two years ago, I would have stormed away in a furious boil of anger. Today, I willfully kneel before the angel, and lower my head in submission.
He places his right hand (Fortuna Major) on my head and speaks a formal authorization and permission to enter his realm. He finishes his pronouncement with a blessing. I am not angry at the action. I am very much amused. It is a gift, of that I am sure. Not one to be mocked. I find I am smiling at how far I have come in my personal development.
I feel his hand leave my head, and hear a soft whoosh as he leaves my sight. At once my fire reasserts itself and I find myself in the middle of the conflagration. The fire doesn’t burn me (as it is of me), and I laugh at the manner of the angel’s departure.
Well then. The only thing that was stopping me at the Warring Fields was Verachiel’s authorization. Now that I have it, let’s see what happens next.
My entry into the Warring Fields was met with the expected flying fist. Instead of catching it or counterattacking, I remember the example of water flowing around an obstacle and dodge the attack. In a movement that I still don’t quite understand, I flow past the assaulting soldier and push him forward into the second soldier that was attempting to take advantage of the distraction provided by the first.
Neither soldier is harmed. No punches were landed. And I have not attacked anyone. It has been a long time since I entered the Warring Fields without someone getting bloodied in the process.
Before they can recover, I ask to see the Commander. The other soldiers begin to assemble in a ring about me. I know he is going to materialize with his arms around my head again so I cross my arms against my neck to block the move and buy me a second of time once he appears and starts to tightens his grip.
A second is all I need to counter his move.
The giant form of the Commander announces his arrival with a burst of body heat from behind me. As I expected, his arms try to close around my head and neck, but my crossed arms keep him from gripping me securely. In the split second he takes to adjust his posture to better seize me, I transform myself into a cloud of black feathers borne on a sentient zephyr and flow out of his grasp.
I reform myself a few feet away from him, still within the circle of soldiers hemming me in. The moment I have breath to speak, I announce I have authorization from Verachiel to proceed and request the way be cleared for me to enter the Path of Teth.
The commander looks at the empty space his arms have locked around, then at me standing unencumbered a few feet away from him. His helm obscured most of his face and dropped a shadow over his mouth, but I can still see the satisfied smirk. I’ll have to think of a different way to dodge him next time. He’ll be ready.
He calls his unit to attention and commands them to clear the way between us and the arches that have materialized in the near distance. They obey silently and move to line the path. The living wall is stone silent as I walk under the five steel arches that precede a grand set of iron double doors twice as tall as I.
The doors are devoid of decoration except for the Hebrew letter Teth rendered in an iron mounting an inch thick and the size of my hand. It spans the closed double doors in the middle of them, sealing them and keeping them closed. I touch the letter. It starts glowing red from some internal heat source. The doors unlock with a loud clang as the letter Teth splits vertically in two. The doors swing open away from me. I can not see into the area they have opened into.
Well. Let’s go.
I walk into the waiting darkness. The moment I am clear of the iron doors, they swing shut with a deafening thud.
Torches bloom with warm light. I find myself on a wide walkway that is paved with gold. The simple torches are mounted about every five feet on a waist-high wall that bounds the walkway on either side. The walkway is wide enough to drive a vehicle comfortably, but two vehicles could only be driven side by side if they were both subcompact cars, and even then one of them is going to lose a side mirror.
On the other side of the restraining wall is what I know to be an infinite darkness even though I can’t see beyond the wall itself. The area beyond looks viscous and thick despite being completely nothing.
Behind me are the closed iron doors. On this side of the portal, the iron doors are marked with the astrological symbol of Mars in polished steel.
Before me, the walkway extends past the furthest point I can see. It could extend indefinitely. Or it could be only a few feet in length. My experiences on the Path of Vau taught me that length is relative, and faith is faulty. There is no way to measure the path until I walk it.
So I start walking it.
I hear a sound a split second before I see the cause of it. Still wary from the efforts of the Fearless Legion, I interpreted it as cause for alarm and dissolved into the cloud of feathers again. Just in time to have my cloud form neatly parted by the strike of a massive serpent. It was attempting to strike the human that had been there just a moment ago. The movement pushed my feathers to the side and the serpent’s mouth closed on itself.
I pull my two groups of feathers together and reform a short distance away. (There is a drawback to remaining a cloud of feathers for too long, I start losing conscious awareness.) The serpent also pulls back to further study its target.
I am not surprised to see the serpent. “Teth” means serpent, after all. That the serpent is of mythic proportions of such size that I could easily stand in its open mouth does not surprise me. That the color of its scales are of a deep and shimmering green that reminds of malachite does. As the serpent rears for another strike, it shakes its head to better prepare the jaw for another attempt. Its golden mane shivers and undulates in the torchlight.
Mane?
The long fur of the serpent’s mane appeared spun of fine strands of gold. It contrasted strikingly against the deep malachite green of its scales. When the serpent held its head still, the mane continued moving of its own accord. I was reminded of various carvings portraying Queztalcoatl, with the feathers extending all around the figure’s head.
It reminded me of my companion, Snake.
I forced nostalgia out of my attention by reminding myself that it was Snake/Queztalcoatl that sacrificed my heart to the Sun that one time. Just because a figure reminds me of a friend, does not make them friendly.
The serpent braces for a strike, and I brace to catch and counter it.
Wait.
No, I’m making a mistake.
Wait for it to commit to motion, then flow.
The serpent strikes. I burst into feathers again and reform beside the head as it collides with the gold floor. I grab handfuls of the golden mane and hold on for dear life as the serpent pulls back its head again.
I can’t conquer this beast. I can’t assault it. I can’t force it to yield by will alone. I have to remember where I am and why. I can not let my desires ride me. I have to ride my desires.
It shakes its head in an attempt to shake me off. I hold fast and adjust my grip for a tighter hold when it pauses. It writhes and thrashes in an attempt to grind me off against its body and the floor. I manage to dodge the more direct blows, and let the mane cushion me against itself as the coil slips over the large head.
The thrashing slows in intensity and attempts. Finally the serpent lies motionless on the ground, exhausted. I’m bruised in several areas, and my shoulders are filing several dozen complaints at once, but I held on.
I wait until it settles into the slow measure of restful breathing before I let go and slip off the wide head. My legs file more complaints of abuse, but I walk up beside the serpent’s eye. We regard each other evenly. No, this is definitely not a manifestation of my friend, Snake.
It opens its mouth slowly and turns to present me with a full view of its fangs. I notice the fangs are different. Its left fang is shaped as one would expect a venomous snake fang to be shaped. It was also made of gold. A single drop of something sharp smelling glistened at the end of it. The fluid held a green hue, but not in a pleasant way like the malachite scales of the serpent, but in a toxic way you would expect to be a visual warning. I notice the fang dangled in a way that announced it was loose. All I have to do it reach up and take it.
Its right fang is crooked and bent in an odd spiral. It was the same length as the gold fang, but instead of a sharp point at the tip, it was blunt like my fingertip. A drop of fluid was also clinging to the tip. It smelled of olive oil and plant sap. It was a scent I know very well. I looked again at the crooked fang and realized it was made of wood.
It’s my wand.
I forget all about the perfect gold fang. I don’t want it. I don’t care about it. I found my precious, and there wasn’t enough gold in all the realms to buy it from me.
I grasped the wood with my right hand. I meant to tug gently to not harm the serpent. The moment I had committed to taking it, it disappeared entirely. The only evidence it had been there was a vivid purple streak in my hand where my flesh had touched it, and even that mark was swiftly fading.
I had the sense that I was successful in retreiving my wand, but I had nothing to show for it.
When I looked up, the serpent was gone and I was alone on the golden walkway.
I continue walking down the walkway. Might as well see what is at the other end, right? The gold tiles give way to the gold of dried grasses and dry dirt. I turn to my right to see the restraining fence is still present with the darkness beyond. A footstep on my left gains my attention. I turn to see lions now walking beside me. A glance back to my right reveals more lions.
I am being escorted by lions.
Okay.
This path is represented by Leo, after all. So, of course there are lions!
The sides of the walkway fall away and the grassy field under our feet expands swiftly in all directions. I am no longer in a tight and constrained area. I am in the middle of a savanna. It is noon, and the sun hangs sternly in the sky. The lions press in around me, greeting and nuzzling each other in a comforting and welcoming way. They include me in their gruff actions and I answer headbutts with well enjoyed ear scratches.
The noon sun descends. Not to the west or towards any horizon, but down and towards us. As it approaches, the lions all lie prone in submission. I obey my confusing instinct and drop to one knee as well. The “sun” dims as Verachiel closes his eyes, and I am able to see him clearly.
His body is not comprised of smoke but of shaped flame. The corona twisted and wrapped around him as a constantly moving length of cloth. His wings of flame were fully extended, holding him in place above us.
“Have you found what you sought?”
I thought about how the wand disappeared once I grasped it. But this is not a physical world. Even what I think I am seeing is but a symbol of other things.
“I have, Lord Verachiel.”
“May I see it.” It was not a question.
I open my right hand and see the purple stain has faded entirely. In an act of faith, I close my hand while thinking of the wand. My fingers wrap around the curving wood as if it had been there the entire time. I lift the wand in a gesture of triumph.
“Do not forget the circumstances you found it in, and what it had become before you made it yours again.” Verachiel spoke as he extended his right hand to the upraised wand. He touches the tip and blesses it.
“Now you have what you sought. What shall you do now?”
“If it would please you, I would to travel to the other end of the Path of Teth and present myself to the gatekeepers of the Palace of Gold in the realm of Chesed. There is a point I need to make and merely emerging from the Path of Teth will be sufficient.”
The angel smiles. It is both comforting and terrifying. “A point to make? To yourself or to others?”
“Both, Sir. I need to show the Lord of Chesed that I have successfully completed this venture. And I need to prove to myself that I am capable of such after all.”
The angel laughs softly. “Your request is granted. You may come back this way, if you wish.” (It was not a request.) He comes closer and lays his right hand on my head as he raises his left towards his heavens. I close my eyes and accept the third blessing he is giving me. Somehow I know it will be his final time doing so, even though I am ignorant of what his blessings are.
He ascends, waiting until he is nearly at the zenith once more before opening his eyes and becoming the severe noon sun over the savanna. The lions get up and stretch in preparation. I take this to mean my audience is over and stand up as well. They escort me towards the other end of the savanna. As they do, the grassy expanse is suddenly hemmed in on either side by the torch lined walkway. The golden grasses give way to gold tiles, and even the lions have left me when I approach four grand arches signifying the end of the Path of Teth.
The first arch I walked under was elaborate, but not very much so. The second was quite elaborate. The third was unecessarily elaborate. And the fourth gold arch before the gold doors was obscenely elaborate and detailed with decoration. Yup, this was the way to Jupiter’s Palace of Gold, indeed!
The grand double doors were probably solid gold. There was some artistry to the subtle reliefs that decorated them, but the reliefs themselves turned and twisted in my sight. All I could recognize upon the door was the large astrological symbol of Jupiter that was made of gold and sealed the doors. I touched the symbol. It split down the middle and the golden doors opened towards me.
Stepping into the sphere of Chesed, I was upon the Palace of Gold almost immediately. Like before, I was hindered by a security door manned by a surly attendant. I knock on the door.
A small window is slid to the side. “State your name and purpose of your visit.”
“I am Weaver Pathwalker, and I wish it to be recorded that I have touched the sphere of Chesed after traversing the Path of Teth.”
I heard the sound of fast but steady typing. A soft ding announced the data had been accepted.
“Weaver Pathwalker, Challenger of the Fearless Legion, Abyss Registrant, your presence has been requested by [Lord Jupiter], Lord of the Palace of Gold and [Master of Chesed]. Are you prepared to attend the summons now, or shall you be returning at a later date?”
Well, hell. Might as well get this over with while I have the available time to do so.
“Yes. I shall answer the summons now.”
“Please arrange yourself accordingly and enter.”
As I changed my appearance from my traveling clothes to my formal wear, a door appeared in the wall of gold that was the security gate. I tucked my cap under my arm and entered. I was met by a gold masked attendant wearing loose gold threaded robes. Silently I am told to follow.
Jupiter is seated on a grand gold throne. His appearance keeps changing when I look away from him. Sometimes he is a thin and gangly youth almost drowning in too much purple cloth. Sometimes he is an elderly bearded man with the body of a triathelete indifferent about the insufficient amount of white cloth failing to cover his genitals. Sometimes I catch a glance of a black harlequin mask laughing at me. Sometimes he is nothing more than a column of clouds, ready to twist itself into what form is necessary to try to get in my pants.
He is Jupiter, King of the Gods, Lord of Chesed, and Demiurge with an ego to match.
I bow and formally greet him without fear of any of his guises.
“You have passed through the Path of Teth.” His voice echoed off my body with force.
“I have, Sir.”
“And you have obtained what you sought from there?”
“I have, Sir.”
“I would to see it.”
“You shall, Sir. I shall show it to you, with the understanding that that is all I shall give of it to you.”
“Are you saying I may not have it?”
“I am, Sir.”
Jupiter, stern and unforgiving, stares at me from his throne. I return his glare with a steady and unyielding demeanor. He suddenly laughs and looks away with a smirk. He “loses” the staring contest, but makes it clear that if he wanted to win, he would have.
I laugh with him as I bow in acceptance of his mercy. As I stand up, I summon the wand and raise it upright in triumph again.
Quick as a blink, he throws a lightning bolt at it. Instinct reacts before I can respond, and I flick one of my own from the wand. The bolts meet between us and loudly destroy each other.
Jupiter is smiling with glee. He knew such would happen and took delight in seeing the knowledge made manifest. He teases me just the same. “I thought your wand was dedicated to fire.”
By now my cognition has caught up with what happened, and I recognize the nature of the bolt I had thrown. “Well, it is. But a funny thing happened along the way. It was touched by a representation of the Sun. And because of cultural cross contamination, it now has access to the power of the Sowilo rune, which is of the sun. And the manifestation of Sowilo’s power can be a lightning bolt. So… There you go. It did throw a power of fire, just not the fire that would be expected.”
Jupiter nodded with sudden gravity. “You would do well to remember and understand this. Such… contamination… affects more than just your wand.”
I realized this was an important lesson before me, and promised to remember it.
“As you have ascended to my realm through the Path of Teth as is the way of mortals, and have defended yourself and your prize well, you are granted the right to descend the Path of Teth from my realm as you please.”
Jupiter dismissed me and his attendants rushed to immediately take me from his presence. They said nothing as I was led back to the gate leading to the Path of Teth. The four arches to the portal were identical to the arches on the far side. As was the door, except the symbol that locked them was the Hebrew letter Teth.
The travel “down” the Path of Teth was relatively uneventful. There were lions, and the savanna, and the stern sun in the sky. I learned more on the nature of soft and strength, and explored what that meant for myself.
Entering the sphere of Geburah and the Warring Fields, I am met by an assembly of the Fearless Legion. I am saluted by a greeting officer and escorted to the commander. (No choke holds, this time.) The commander asks if I had achieved my goal.
I answer by manifesting the wand a third time in triumph. He nods and says, “Well done.”. From him, these are big words. I accept them with pride.
I leave the Warring Fields and return to my Other Worlds home. At my steady fire, I practice manifesting the wand and playing with it for a while. It takes on the form of a small tan garden snake and coil itself around my right wrist like a bracelet. I knew I had to retrieve the wand, not just for personal pride, but because it is an important tool even though I scarcely know how to use it.
I have the sense that I will be using it to create more personalized, and more important tools later.
Right now, I’m just glad this ordeal is over, and I can mark off another completed road on the map of my personal Tree of Life.