It felt like I’d been riding for eternity. Night had descended upon me as I’d struck my way into the hills like lightning. The pace was relentless, heart and legs pumping, counting the pace of the time trial in my head like a mantra.
As I was ascending the last and highest hill on my route a moment of clarity came, a bit of a high, in my exhaustion. A star caught my eye, Rigel, shining high in southern sky. And just as my eye touched Rigel a strong wind caressed my face and the moment stretched out in my awareness into something not quite time.
Suddenly it snapped back like a rubber band as sweat stung my eyes and once again I was in the process, now with a renewed energy, to reach my goal. Fury poured through my veins, interpenetrating my being, and the one within howled with rage. A few moments later, seething, I saw that success was mine.
I found the place before sunset, a clearing surrounded by the wood on all sides. I had cycled here on the trails as a new challenge in my training for the physical task and this place emerged and I knew that this night I must be here.
So I remained.
As the sun fell and the shadows fell and the cold bit numbingly I began to hear a voice in my mind so I made my voice sing with it. An ocean had descended around me, an ocean of absolute darkness- a chilling, biting darkness.
In the darkness we sang together, the voice and I, a fifth apart, until dawn. In the darkness the mind conjured many things and those things were erased by our voices in the darkness.
Acquiring them wasn’t difficult. Online searches yielded thousands of pages of manuscripts and opinions, interpretations and reinterpretations. Many of them are facsimile copies. Reading them is often a chore.
Action has been much easier, for me, as a restless spirit. Acquiring consecrated hosts could be trivial in a small town which rarely locks its doors. For many it just might be a simple in and out affair with a single problem fixed with a screwdriver.
But thousands of pages stare me down, still. Boring, stretching out in front of me like a yawn on a dismal day. Some few pieces excite me and some few others whisper gently of possibility or practicality amid thousands of pages of unnecessary stuff.
Cycling along my path today I saw leaves, frozen perfectly in water, frozen perfectly in time. The ice glistened beautifully, like a human destiny caught and captured, like a reflection in crystal, which I suppose it was.
Cycling 50 miles in a little over 3 hours was much less difficult than I might have expected. Finding a crystal wasn’t difficult. It almost sang out to me. Finding someone to fashion it into a tetrahedron required considerable effort. It’s much like finding a cobbler in that you’re searching for a practitioner of what is almost a lost art.
The effort and expense should be worth it. The pre-cut pieces online didn’t feel right. To acquire a tetrahedron through simple commerce would be, for me, like touching those frozen leaves. Neither was a thing I could choose.
Purchase a piece of quartz jewelry. It seems like a simple thing. It was surprisingly difficult to find the piece I saw in my mind’s eye when I first read about it. Then I had to have it engraved to match my intuitions. Some of the simplest, most innocuous matters teach me some of the most interesting lessons.