when i am only in my mind, at work mostly, then i feel weightless, air, a subtle power too demur to be called power.
when i am in my spirit, or when i at least no longer am exercising my mind, i feel heavy, enormous, my legs like trunks of stone, my body cumbersome and too tall. my hands small, but of steel and copper. My balance unsteady. I am living in another world. Well, that's not accurate. I sense I am living in two other worlds, maybe three, but the third other world is barely conscious. and all creation spins, but i remain still. if i am called from my reverie by myself or the needs of my blessed wards, then i quickly leap forward into myself, into this terran place of illusion, but beautiful, and the pain and longing for those other places i can become adjusted to and hardly need shed a tear. but the joy at returning, returning, is the more sweet, the more enticing, the more soft and downy. but now i am allowed so precious few minutes to live there. i need this blessing less.
i was trained to live on sweeter meats, choicer wines, and now i must become lean and taut and sinewy in the spiritual life. for the initiations are over. the long road, the long, long road of an unending life of perils petty and great, lays before me. indeed, i have already taken the first tentative steps. i shall be the rod of power, the boulder of shelter, he who is trust, over-relied upon. i shall be taken for granted and reviled, and yet loved by the simple. the crafty shall despise me.
