The shower washed out the sound of the world and provided a sanctuary for reorder. James started with the shampoo at the crown of his head and worked clockwise around and down. He made sure to massage his scalp and this commenced a sort of autobaptism. As he continued with his bathing, working his way down from the very top in a perfect order and completeness, he meditated on the refinement of his soul. All the madness and discord were put into place, spiraling down the qliphoth of the drain.
He wondered how men and women lived in the world without a reverence for the mysteriousness of existence and the magics of intent and will, symbolism and ritual. What would life be then, he asked himself. Views from highrise houses, titles and credits, swishing suits and the smell of dry cleaning were all he could imagine to aspire to. For his lot in life was not given to the achievement of power and he could not marry his hunger for success with those trophies. Truly, as he looked at his body and the water that ran down it, his health and physical comfort were the meter. Intimately tied to physical comfort was the balance and even keel of his psyche, maintained by order and earned wisdom.
Enjoying the private water in the shower, he went over his dreams. He had promised himself the sail across the Atlantic, abandoned the dream of owning a vineyard as he realized that alcohol was a poison for him but still loved the idea of civilized agriculture in southern Europe, and after the delay and failure at making a comfortable and controlled life for himself by thirty had resolved to ride a motorcycle to Argentina. It was clear that he could not afford to add to these epic aspirations, but he could in fact make his small moves to achieve them.
The trouble, he admitted, was in love. He could not do what his heart told him to and also be a man worth the love of a woman. This was a clear problem. As he delighted with his clean skin, the clarity he felt and the simplicity of his thinking, direction and solution emerged. In order to become the man he wanted to be, a man he loved and respected, he would have to be with and by himself. He would have to travel through the chapel perilous, the world and her gravity, his own doubts and fears.
He stepped out of the shower and dried himself off, again from his head then down. In the mirror, he saw his young face and the gravelly unshaved jaw. His hair was a little too long, and he had to brush his teeth. Then he stopped looking at his appearance and looked into his eyes. In the blackness of his pupils he stared deeply. He could see and feel a sympathy for all of the pain, humiliation, and failure and he determined to be an ally to himself. A strong voice in his internal dialogue resolved in statements, "The promises I have made I will strive to keep. I will make no more promises until I am free again from the onus of my own words. My duty is clear and my heart is pure and may god not let me forget or lose that."
The challenges of life in the city of men were regular and constant. Absurdly, the greatest was in making his intent known to those he loved. He would only do this when for benefit, for he had known for some time that grand declarations were dangerous ones. For a man to give his words speci, he can not issue them so freely. His dream and the destiny he saw and sought to make would seem selfish, but eventually he knew they would prove to grant generously in his experience and sharing it. So long as his reverence for god, his humility of heart, and his sobriety of mind were kept, he would do no wrong he would be unable to atone for.
People speak in small voices about spiritual experiences. It is a personal and embarrassing thing to speak of. It invites dubiousness and mockery. Still, men worthy and wise will acknowledge that this shared humanness is one profound and authentic. When men and power, esteem and authority are introduced to the spiritual, she becomes adulterated, corrupt, and perverse. God, who is real, does make men eat their words.
James, this particular day, knew the verity and tragic humor of this. It made him resolve to be careful with his tongue. He prayed that his voice and tongue echo and draw that which is beautiful and true, reflected brilliance and love imparted by divinity so long as he was willing and true. May the crown and gnostic matter be both known, but not for knowledge or power; may they be respected for wisdom and love, protection and generation. His prayer concluded with the petition that his soul be a Fresnel Lens for love and light.
He stared still at his pupils and made the realization of his existence. In them he saw all that he had seen, and knew all that he felt. The mirror made an image of himself he recognized, though he had never truly seen. As a man, he would never be perfect. Like the image, he would only see what was presented, and there was nothing to be seen on the back of the mirror. A jewess once told him that man will never see the face of god. This gave him both a humbling solace and a spark of jealous defiance. What then, if he gave his soul to god that he may see that face and know it? Dangerous thinking, he knew, but natural still. The very consideration pushed him off the course of righteousness.
At the time of his changing from boy into man, he heard the defiance and became lustful of the knowledge of the universe. A print he loved, quoting Albert Einstein, "I want to know god's thoughts... The rest are details." teased him affectionately in his youth. What then, were god's thoughts and how and why is matter as it is? He sought to become closer to god and see behind the ether with LSD, he crept through the occult of the university library and the art of old Europe. All he gained through this fantastic but feeble odyssey was irreverence and disregard for the line between madness and genius. It took most of thirty years before he learned to be small enough to ask for god's will for him, as an instrument, and the power to carry it out.
All this and more swirled in his pupils, and he came back to his station and presence at the sink. He breathed deeply and was thankful for the air. He brushed his teeth with consideration and attention to each one. Finally, he was ready. So long as he kept his resolution to be willing and true he would serve all things great and see his dreams. And so he would.
At night I dowse a blisk for love
