Wednesday, September 01, 2004
... At 47th Street, at the entrance to the Diamond District, there are two light towers in the form of stylised octagonal diamonds. Horace asked me if I wanted to climb one. I didn't find it funny.
We sat in silence for perhaps five minutes. I felt Horace holding us in his mind with great love.
...“Like many things, they are an illusion,” he finally said. “It is all a question of learning to look. Let us begin.”
Tuesday, August 31, 2004
... He pointed left to right. “The elements. Earth. Water. Fire, which is what she holds in her hand. Then Air. Then Ether.”
Monday, August 30, 2004
Today I understood this line.
As we advance along the Path, we must balance the forces of earth, water, fire and air. The point of balance shifts and moves constantly. Clinging to any one point tears you apart. Balance must be constantly reacquired, or it will destroy itself. If we align ourselves with the ebbs and flows of nature, we can acquire the strength of nature and even channel and direct some of nature’s own power. This is the power of ether – seeing the interconnection of all things, and our connection to it.
There is a living, shifting border between order and disorder, the point where creation happens. In achieving balance, my will becomes powerful. My intentions come true. I make my own weather. I begin to create my reality around me. Yet the force of ether must not be used for my own gratification, or it will turn on me.
Today I felt for the first time that it was possible – no, necessary – to face down Iwnw with a different currency than their own. I saw the possibility – no, again, the necessity – of finding a form of weapon that they cannot convert into fuel for their own strength.
It is impossible, but also unavoidable. Unthinkable, but also ineluctable: only a form of forgiveness can stop the detonation of the Ma’rifat’. But it must be a muscular form of forgiveness. I want to destroy the Iwnw.
“What is this?”
... “You were a busy man,” I whispered to myself. “They must really love you in Mexico.”
I am being torn apart, yet I am growing more alive.
I am beginning to hear and see things I would never have believed were possible.
Since these events began, I have lost my job, and been humiliatingly expelled from among my people. Tomorrow I will reckon with them.
I have been attacked and beaten, and left vomiting in the subway.
I have been almost drowned.
I have been almost blown apart in a gas explosion.
I have had the breath crushed out of my lungs.
I have willingly broken my marriage vows, and lost the ring that symbolizes them. I have insulted my wife.
I have experienced a new autonomy, a new self-respect, then hurt my most beloved one in order to retain it. I have indulged my anger and desire for revenge, and I have dressed it up as honesty.
Yet in facing death, in the play of lust in my flesh, I have found strength I never knew I had. I have turned basic urges – kill it, fuck it -- into spiritual weapons, those of earth and water.
In rejecting blackmail, in asserting my utter freedom, I have added the power of fire to those weapons.
In diving into the crowd to rescue that boy, when self-preservation would have had me stay sheltering and cowering where I was, I have, I believe, added the power of air. It is what I used, without knowing how, to calm the crowd.
I am growing stronger as I advance along the Path, though all this strength is only lent to me, is not my own, is not for my vanity or advancement.
It is for Adam, to help him to resist the corrosion of the parasites within him.
It is for Katherine, to help her on the lonely road I have driven her to. If her being with Adam will help him survive these ordeals, then so be it. But I will have her back.
It is for Terri, to help her overcome the hidden new fear I see in her.
It is for Horace, to guide and instruct me as he may need.
Other people are not hell. They are salvation.
There is a shape in my mind that defies words, just as the peregrination I have been on across Manhattan – the shape I have drawn on the city, the experiences at each waypoint – are drawing a shape in my soul.
I am seeing connections where none were apparent, lines and images of new harmonies.. The capacity to speak the language of the birds is awakening within me.
All this, to defeat those who have caused these ordeals to come to us.
I pray for my enemy, since praying for my friends is no virtue.
I forgive myself, for everything I have done has been necessary. I ask the forgiveness of others.
I am ready. I am alive. I will fight.
Sunday, August 29, 2004
“Hell of a name.”
“Hell of a game. It’s where the cable cars coming up Broadway used to crash or send people flying as they tried to negotiate the bend. There was no way to decelerate. Sound familiar?”
Saturday, August 28, 2004
“Tables for chess and checkers only. No loitering,” a sign said. “Two hour limit per table. Free for public use. No gambling or fees.”
The bolts meant something to me too. Indefinable images rushed at me. I placed my hands on the bell, closing my eyes, hearing again the chanting in my dream. Fat Mary Fat Mary Fat Mary …
“Don’t turn round, Robert,” a man’s voice said. “It’s time for us to talk.”
“Just don’t turn round.”
“What the hell?”