i speak to no one but myself.
although i do listen attentively to myself, and sometimes i give good advice and often consolation sweet.
but is there no other? is there no one to know me? my master would say i must let this go. is this the price of this other life? that all interactions with other humans become so mundane, so distant, so meaningless, so painful?
now i know why i wear the spiritual chador, it is not so much so that i cannot be seen, it is so that i can see as few others as possible. for every person that i see, i love with painful love. and my family, i begin to worship them even as they are weights around my neck that pull me to the ground.
o god. which is better? the ignorance of this inner life and its ecstacies? or the knowledge that it brings, the hyper-clarity of all i see; the clairvoiyance which no man of any intelligence would want, and yet i did. for now i see all things, know all things, all things are brought into myself. and it makes me want to die. no. to die 10 times. for one death would not be enough to expiate all of the pains and dregs and evils and frightful truths and loves of this life.
o god. you have made me a freak among men. how then can I earn a living with normal humans? i despise all but my prayer closet and my journal. my journal now is my salvation; for without it the truths which thou givest to me would swirl in my head mercilessly.
thank you for the pen! vellum! ink! praise and highest praise!
but yet, o lord, you have given me the sentiments and temperament of a gentleman, but no inheritance, no money of my own, i live from day to day with my wife now realizing the perils we are in on the financial plane.
is this not why you also made me a magician? so far, I don't feel like a good one; but i don't feel like a bad one either. maybe i need to do some seeking under rocks.
heaven knows that on that other plane my arms are raised, my robe of glory falls around me and covers me and yet billows with the fire and maelstrom of thy divine wind buffetting me. yet i stand. and i see myself as the wind touches me---my hair and nails and bear grow to the floor and whiten before my eyes, then they shrink and i am a boy, then a child, then a toddler and my power increases with every metamorphosis. and then i am an angel, a demon, a wind, a tree, a lion, a cougar, a dragon, a man, and finally myself.
the heavens have changed their constellations. where have we been moved to o god? and when? and in what place are we. the star are all wrong, and they large, as large as moons. and each gives the light of ten moons. yet i stand, arms raised. and my valets rush to hold them up.
