 
Identity Crisis;

The Song of the Nagual

By Al Black

© 2015 Matthew William Parrett

Published by Matthew William Parrett

Distributed by Smashwords

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This book was over eight years in the making.

Thank you for respecting the hard work of the author.

### I would like to dedicate this book to Betty. All my love, Al.

### Adversity promotes growth. The key is maintaining personal integrity in a hostile universe.
Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter 1--Sam and the Salesman

The Salesman

You Can Call Me 'Al'

Sam

The Ticket

Chapter 2--The Sorcerer

Magic and Mystery

Expectation

The World of Appearances

The Investment

Chapter 3--The Nagual

The Flame of Conviction

The Foundation

A Sliver of Eternity

The Nagual

The Tonal

The Breakdown

Chapter 4--Motive

The Convict and the Crown

Self-Awareness

Intent

The Gate

Chapter 5--The Gift, The Curse

You'll Know Your Right

The Tramp Stamp

Voices of Gaia

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

The Portrait of Man

Ghosts

Chapter 6--A Folly

The Deviant

Monkey Me, Monkey You

A Loaf of Bread

Opinionism

Chapter 7--Game

The Game of Life

The Offering

A Game of You

Passive Predators

A Penny for your Thoughts

Chapter 8--Pioneering

The Founding

A Foreign Body

The Rule of Immediacy

Purpose

A True Friend

Chapter 9--Identity

Freedom within Four Walls

The Argument

The Mechanics of Intent

Introductions

Epilogue

About the Author

Contact
Prologue

The snow began to fall about an hour into my trip. The radio faded to static around the same time. I silenced the noise with a smile. It was as if the cities' voice had been put to rest.

I was free.

The snowfall gradually increased as I drove, obscuring the sun and surrounding landscape in a white haze. Every minute that went by I was that much further from the empty consolation of my friends and family. I was that much further from my vacant apartment and the ghost that haunted me.

I was that much further from my loss.

Although the distance from the city grew, the ache I experienced every time I thought of her was undiminished. Sara. Her memory had not yet relinquished its grip on my heart. Unlike the surrounding landscape, her memory remained clear and lucid.

The cities' voice had been put to rest. How far would I have to drive to be truly free? I could not escape myself. The time we had spent together had been the happiest of my life, even as things started to fall apart. There is something about finding love that can make every sensation more pronounced. It can make a rainy day nothing more than an excuse to stay inside.

Without the warmth of her presence, the time I had spent in the old apartment had been unbearable. I expected her to be beside me in the morning when I woke, and the shock at her absence when I surfaced in the morning was unbearable. She was with me in the shower, she was in my car when I drove home after work, and even weeks later her fragrance lingered on the couch. I dreaded crawling into bed at the end of the day, and after falling asleep I could find no respite in my dreams.

There was nowhere I could hide.

Her presence in my memory and her physical absence were palpable in all aspects of my life. When she left I had been devastated, but as days and weeks passed I grew steadily worse. There had been no option but to leave.

Frank, one of my more observant friends, came to the realization that I was close to the edge. Although I had said nothing to him about what I was going through, he was one of those who realized the depth of my despair. The winter holidays were fast approaching. One morning over coffee he told me that he had inherited a cabin from an uncle who had died. It was a few hours out of town. When he offered it to me I did not hesitate.

Christmas would come and go without me.

Before leaving I made a number of decisions. First of all I booked time off work. I had a decent job at the post office, or so I had thought before all the trouble began. My supervisor gave me the time off without question. I gave notice at my apartment and moved my things into storage.

Moving was an attempt to silence the ghost.

Afterwards it was simply a question of telling everyone I would not be around for the holidays. Sure they were disappointed, but Frank was not the only one of my friends who had noticed my withdrawal. More than a few of my acquaintances had tried to lift my spirits, but unfortunately that was part of the problem. Although they offered their support, I could not help feeling that they were in some way vindicated by the break-up. I thought at the time that it was the result of my disturbed emotional state.

What I learned over the Christmas holidays would change that impression entirely.

Having informed every-one of my decision to leave things became a little easier. I felt like I was doing something for the first time in weeks. I packed some things, got into my truck, and left.

Life had been simple before I met Sara. I was brought up in a lower-middle class family that was well-adjusted if not wealthy. After finishing high school I had gotten hired at the post office. It was repetitive, boring work, but it paid well. The girls I met would laugh and say they loved a man in uniform. I moved out of my parents place and into a house with two of my closest friends.

My work was well balanced with play. I cannot say I saved much in the way of money. Bryce, Andy and I all played for the same hockey team. Other than my roommates, most of the people I hung out with played in the rec-league as well. When not working or playing hockey, we spent a great deal of time at the local pub. Our time was dedicated to the pursuit of the fairer sex. If competition was present, the game could get a little rough. Regardless, it was all in fun.

We were weekend warriors and life was not really a puzzle I was attempting to solve.

I dated a number of girls but the relationships did not last. The running joke was that my girlfriends had an expiry date that was up after a few months. I guess I was more interested in the pursuit than the capture. This was not a source of guilt. I am sure it was the same for most of the girls. The boys and I had known each other since high school. Girls came and went.

When I was in high school I had fallen in love with music. I had asked my parents for a guitar for my fourteenth birthday. It was the best present I had ever received. Over the years I had gotten better at playing and decided to try my hand at writing. It was a slow process, but I loved it.

My writing was the one thing I did not share openly with my friends.

My roommates worked Sundays, so I took full advantage of the time alone. The day would generally start with a nasty taste in my mouth, a remnant from the evening past. This was easily cured with a toothbrush however. Having accomplished that, the hangover was greeted with a cup of coffee, and occasionally, a cigarette. Those ingredients and an empty house were a source of inspiration.

I would pick up my guitar, and see what I could coax out of it.

Sundays became more relevant a when I decided to take my music more seriously. I was at a local bookstore having a cup of coffee and flipping through a guitar magazine. There was a notice board on the wall that caught my attention. It was an announcement about an open mic night, on Sundays no less. Local talent could showcase their work.

As I have said, I rarely played for my friends, persistent as they were. For some reason my music was a personal thing. I had no intention of getting on stage right away, but I was curious enough to show up that night and see what people had to offer.

Most people did poetry, but a few sang, or did an excerpt from a book they were working on. Afterwards we would sit over a cup of coffee and talk. Almost all of my friends were into sports, so my Sunday night excursions exposed me to a different kind of animal. At first I had little to say, but as time went on I became more comfortable.

I was finally talked into singing by one of the regulars.

Although I did not play openly for my friends, I was alright playing anonymously for the Sunday crowd. I will never forget my first time in front of an audience. Alone you are always a star. On stage you sink or swim. When I am playing hockey I know where I stand. I had never been on stage before.

My first attempt at playing for an audience was nerve wracking.

On ice you are part of a team. On stage I was completely alone, which was odd since all eyes were upon me. After a bit of a shaky start, I settled in. My hands found the chords they were looking for. My voice seemed small in a large room, but as I sang my confidence grew.

My last note rang clearly.

The applause from my newfound friends at the coffee shop was liberating. They had been waiting for weeks to see what I had to offer.

They were obviously pleased with the result.

Over the course of the next few months, I tried a few songs with success. I got better as I grew more comfortable with the stage. To be honest there were probably more people at my hockey games, but that was more impersonal. There was an intimacy between the participants on a Sunday night.

I was enjoying myself.

Not long after my initial performance my life would be changed irrevocably. The change would arrive in the form of a voice. Looking back I have often wondered if there is ever a moment that defines the rest. That voice would yield a profound relationship. It would cause me to question myself, and lead to me leaving the city over the Christmas holidays.

It would result in my introduction to someone who would change my view on reality.

To be honest I had paid little attention when a new reader was announced. I was analyzing busy analyzing my last performance. I registered her name, despite being lost in thought. Her name was Sara.

That being said I can hardly call it love at first sight. What initially caught my attention was her voice. It was layered in rich tones, playful and bold. She spoke without the slightest trace of self-consciousness.

I was captivated.

My coffee sat untouched as she read. I was drawn to that voice, lost in the rhyme and rhythm of the poem. The only thing lovelier than the voice was the poet herself. She was stunning. When she fell silent, I knew I wanted nothing more than to hear her speak again. I sat silently, attempting to deal with my chaotic mix of emotions.

It took me several minutes to get a hold of myself. I tried to pay attention to the other artists, yet found it difficult to concentrate. When the last artist had finished I waited in hopes that she would remain. I was in luck. There was no question that I had to introduce myself. I was rarely nervous around women but what I was experiencing was something new. It was like my first time on stage all over again. I took a deep breath and, guitar in hand, went over to introduce myself.

She was sitting alone which made things easier. I approached her table and asked if I could join her. She met my eyes with a smile and gestured to the seat across from her. When I introduced myself, she told me that she knew who I was, and that she had enjoyed listening to me play. I could kick myself for not having noticed her in the audience.

The rest of the evening basically wrote itself.

Sara's attitude was both casual and disarming. She put me at ease immediately. During our conversation I learned that she was new to town. Her parents had relocated to try life in a small community. They had done very well for themselves. Her father was a doctor and had been given a generous offer to move. This put me on the defensive, having grown up with little money myself, but her attitude served to still such thoughts. She was enrolled at the university in fine arts.

And thus our mutual interest.

Over the course of the evening we discussed the artists we found most inspirational. My interests revolved primarily around music. She laughed at the blank look I gave her when she talked about painters she liked. It was her laughter that was my undoing. It rang clear as a bell through the darkening store.

She challenged me to try to find an appreciation for something other than music, her eyes glittering with amusement. I told her I did not know where to start. Taking the lead, not for the last time during our relationship, she suggested we check out the local art museum.

It took a moment for her meaning to sink in. My tongue—normally well behaved—decided to mutiny. When I regained control of myself, I accepted her challenge with what little composure I could muster. By that time most of the customers had left, not that I had paid much attention. The store was about to close.

Sara smiled playfully as she said goodbye, leaving me with her number.

I was completely taken with her.

From that point on we spent every moment we could together. It is odd how the world can recede and everything can be brought into focus on a single point. My focus was Sara and there was no room for anything else. It was not a gradual thing by any means. It felt like I had been swept up in some fairytale.

I had listened to many love songs in my time. It is odd that meaning often eludes you until you have first-hand experience.

I began spending less and less time with my friends. I think most sensed right away that this relationship was different. In the beginning I took her out with them occasionally. Eventually, I came to the conclusion that Sara and my guitar were related in some way. They were both personal. I really did not know why.

As our relationship progressed I became convinced that I would be spending the rest of my life with her. After three months I asked her if she would consider living with me. She accepted.

It was only after the move that things changed.

It started out innocently enough. It was a simple invitation to dinner. During the three months we had been together I had only met her parents briefly. I really do not know if Sara had avoided this deliberately. Having decided to live together, it was only appropriate that I spend some time with her family.

During dinner I could not believe that such a warm, caring person could have such cold parents. I was shocked. They were hardly even civil. The house really did not help things at all either. I had known Sara's father was a doctor of course, but the grandeur of the house was more intimidating than my first session at the coffee shop, and unlike my first time on stage, this was a performance which did not go over that well. I said little during dinner but I got the message anyway.

I was not good enough for their little girl.

To make things worse, a few days later, her parent's opinion was echoed by those closest to me. My friends were not nearly as subtle as Sara's parents. Over a few casual beers they told me flat out that me she was too good for me. Oh, they laughed it off and congratulated me, but they wounded me at the same time.

Looking back I still can't believe I allowed their opinions to have the impact they did. The seed of doubt had been planted. Sadly, I watered the ugly little thing until it grew roots and bloomed.

It started at work. Now I had never really liked my job but I had always enjoyed the money. For some reason I found myself growing more and more irritated while at work. The job became unbearably repetitive. It was an endless row of mailboxes that drained me of strength. In my lighter moments I managed a smile, but my darker moods had a red hue.

I was simply another disgruntled postal service employee. Unfortunately I would return home afterwards, my mood heavy upon me.

Sara and I had had our arguments but there was always a sense of play involved as well. After work I began to find myself snapping at her. Afterwards I would feel even worse, which did not help matters at all.

My dissatisfaction grew as time passed. Sara had lost none of her appeal, but for some reason she seemed to aggravate my mood. Even so, I was living with the girl of my dreams. Sara meant the world to me, but after a few weeks living together I started spending a few more nights out with the boys. At the time I simply told myself that we both needed some space once in a while.

Now I am not so sure.

The shift in our relationship continued as the months passed. Whereas in the beginning my attention had been eclipsed by Sara, my mood became more unstable and divided. Work grew steadily more difficult. I turned to my friends for solace with growing frequency, and usually there was a bottle involved as well. It began innocently enough. I had always gone out drinking with my friends and it had never been a problem. I suppose I should have realized things were changing when I would have a few beers at home while Sara was at school.

I am certain the quality of my company deteriorated.

The strange thing was that my appreciation of Sara was in no way diminished. I loved her completely. I really did not know why I behaved the way I did. I tried confiding in my friends, but they did little to soothe me. I expressed my dissatisfaction with my job, but who really liked work anyway? My situation at home, my drinking, and my problems at work grew steadily worse.

The result was a negative cycle. The more things slipped from my grasp the more I tried to maintain control. Our relationship fluctuated between our arguments and my trying to make amends. My feeling was that if I did not change something soon I would lose her, so I did the obvious thing—I proposed.

She refused.

Despite the opinions of both her parents and my friends, she had never given me any sign of a similar perspective. Her refusal left me devastated. I suppose at that point the end was inevitable. Things became uncomfortable, and she was obviously unhappy. Up until the proposal the situation had been poor but tolerable. Afterwards it was obvious that things could not continue.

At one point we had been in love. I do not know what was worse. Saying goodbye to her, or what we had had together.

Sara and I broke up close to the end of November. I was left with an empty apartment. I was also forced to deal with the breakup in regards to the people I associated with. Sure they offered me a shoulder and words of consolation, but I could not help feeling that the break-up was somehow a victory for them. I tried to dismiss the impression but it persisted. It was as if my friends suddenly wore the faces of strangers. They were also the friends I had known for years.

Lurking behind faces of those I knew so well was a face which was foreign to me. It made me decidedly uncomfortable.

My guitar and writing had gone untouched for weeks. I was unhappy at work. Staying at home was unbearable, and the company I kept was an empty consolation. I suppose it was around this time that Frank realized I was in trouble.

I had to escape.

Christmas was fast approaching and I found myself dreading it. The family dinners and time spent with friends over the holidays approached like a funeral. A change of scenery was needed—some time to sort myself out. When Frank offered me the cabin I accepted without hesitation.

After dealing with my affairs I got in my truck and drove.

I turned from my memories and placed my attention back on the road ahead of me. The snowfall had grown heavier, obscuring my view. The directions Frank had given were simple enough. I would arrive in about half an hour, if I had my distances right.

Fate had something different in mind for me. The daylight was fading rapidly and dusk was approaching. I was coming around a corner when my headlights caused a pair of amber eyes to flash. I only caught a glimpse of the creature before it leapt off the road. In my effort to avoid it I lost control of the vehicle.

I hit the snow bank with a solid thump.

The impact threw me hard against the seatbelt. I sat for a moment, stunned, before attempting to back out. I had no luck. I tried again to no avail.

My situation dawned on me slowly. I realized I was far from the city and any phone service. It was entirely possible that I was miles away from any other form of assistance as well. I got out and surveyed the situation. The front of my truck was completely off the road and buried deep in the snow.

I needed help.

My only course of action was to try to find someone living nearby. Even an empty cabin might offer something in the way of shelter. I had no choice but to leave the truck behind. I couldn't recall seeing anything in the way of side roads for some time, so I set out in the direction I had been traveling.

I began walking. Up until that point, even with the loss of Sara, my life had been relatively simple. It was about to get far more complicated.

1

Sam and the Salesman

The Salesman

My walk was an uneasy one, to say the least. I considered my options while I made my way down the road, the light snowfall muffling the sound of my progress. How long would I walk before turning back? Would I be trapped in the truck with the engine running waiting for someone to drive by? If I even found a place, would anyone be there during the holiday season? The road had been ploughed recently, which I took to be a good sign. Obviously it received some traffic.

Regardless, my fate was truly out of my hands.

The gently falling snow, the rapidly darkening sky, and the lack of any traffic, portrayed a calm that was by no means reflected internally. I came to the conclusion that my concern would yield no result. My only option was to keep walking and hope for the best.

I was used to the noise of the city. Here everything was shadowed in eerie silence. Usually the hero is stranded on a lonely though beautiful tropical island. I was stuck in the snow. Perhaps 'hero' was not to be my role.

I was struck by the strangest impression that something was waiting. Perhaps it was the silence that created the sense of anticipation. I attempted whistling one of my songs, but it only made me feel smaller. I shook my head, throwing off snow, and continued walking.

After continuing for about twenty minutes, I saw what appeared to be a driveway leading into the woods on the left. I walked to the foot of it, my anticipation growing at the telltale sign of habitation. The driveway was relatively clear, taking into account the fresh snowfall. I stood silent for a moment, took a deep breath, and made my way up the driveway, breaking fresh tracks in the snow.

I did not want to get my hopes up.

By that time the darkness had settled, and the snowfall had diminished considerably. I had little to go on other than the hope of the stranded and brokenhearted. Somewhere in existence there had to be a saint for one or the other. The only illumination was the pale light of the moon. The trees on either side of the narrow driveway closed overhead, forming a canopy. It had to lead somewhere. My only course of action was to find out where.

It did not take me long to discover I was in luck.

The picturesque cabin that came into view revealed nothing of what was in store for me inside. I was unprepared for was the form of assistance I would receive. I was about to meet someone who would have both an immediate and lasting impact on my life.

Contrary to what was to come, the setting of the cabin served to ease my concern. It was a simple cabin composed of rough-hewn logs, the thick blanket of snow on the roof serving only to make what lay within all the more inviting. A large porch was situated at the top of a small flight of stairs. The chairs on the porch were obviously handmade. I imagined that the occupant enjoyed spending some of his time sitting outside.

The thin trail of smoke that rose from the chimney announced that someone was indeed home. The warm glow that illuminate the windows of the cabin cast flickering shadows on the surrounding landscape. All in all my fears were put to rest.

Further back there was a woodpile next to a large garage. I was disappointed to see that the garage housed no vehicle. The setting was wonderfully rustic, the same thing I had imagined for myself before setting out.

Having surveyed the area, there was little left to do but try the door. I walked up the stairs and onto the porch. As I approached I was surprised to see a sign hanging from the doorknob. It read 'NO SOLICITORS' in bold letters, and hung slightly askew. I could only wonder who in their right mind would come out all this way for a sale.

What was unknown to me at that point was that I was the salesman.

I knocked on the door and waited for my savior to answer. I did not have to wait long for a response. The door opened just enough to allow the occupant to get a look at me. From what little I could see he appeared to be in his late fifties. I took a breath and prepared to explain my presence.

He did not give me the chance.

"What are you selling?" He demanded suspiciously, his voice conveying both age and confusion.

This was not the introduction I had expected. The speech I had in mind escaped through my open mouth. I am afraid I probably stood there wearing a rather dumb expression.

"I..." My voice failed me in my own confusion.

"What are you selling?" he raised his voice this time, craning his neck further out the door as if looking for an item of interest. Finding none his eyes returned to me.

"Can't you read? I am not interested." The occupant was by no means as inviting as the cabin which housed him.

His displeasure was felt by both myself and any other life in the form of life in the vicinity when he closed the door with an audible 'bang!' I was left staring at the instrument of such displeasure, the sign swinging gently in mute accusation. My situation was now both desperate and ridiculous. In my bewilderment I had to stifle a panicked laugh.

I stood there for a few moments trying to make sense of what had just happened. I was struggling between mirth and self-pity. Why me? There seemed to be no other option but to try again. I knocked for a second time.

This time I was prepared.

"Look I hate to bother you but I need some help......" he did not let me finish.

"What are you doing back here?" He demanded imperiously, as if hours instead of a moment had passed since our last discussion. He pushed the door open further giving me a look at him for the first time. He was dressed in a plaid shirt and suspenders, which he hiked up haughtily before confronting me again. "Can I see some identification please?"

This was not going well at all.

He waited in the doorway as if suspicious I would rush him with a vacuum cleaner. I could see no other option but to humor him. I reached back and fished out my wallet, removing my driver's license. I handed it to him and watched as he peered at it, holding it up to the light as if to verify its authenticity.

I stood helplessly, not wanting to interrupt him and set him off.

"I don't want any..." I heard him mumble under his breath.

He dropped his hands to his sides, looked at me once again and then squinted, as if confused by my presence and attempting to bring my face into focus. Suddenly all the hostility vanished. In a few desperate moments I had seen the old codger both hostile and bewildered. They say the most profound moment of a relationship is the first impression. Not to be confined into anything resembling rationality, he moved directly into pleasure. His eyes lit up like I was his long lost nephew.

"It's good to see you, Al!" He beamed.

I wanted to sit down on one of the porch chairs and hold my head in my hands. What this senile old coot was doing out in the middle of nowhere, I did not know. All I could think was that I was as lost as his mind was, and we both needed help.

"Come in! Come in, Al! There is no need to stand in the cold."

Wonderful.

He grabbed me by the arm as I attempted to correct him. He would have none of it. Who 'Al' was remained a mystery, although the old man was obviously immensely pleased to have his company. I could do little but follow him inside.

"I am so glad you decided to drop by!"

I let the poor fellow take my jacket and tried to settle on a plan. I decided the best course of action would be to humor him and see what I could find out about the area. Having taken my jacket he led me inside. I got my first look at the place.

The cabin in no way reflected the confusion shown by its owner.

It was a simple, rustic structure built from rough-hewn logs. I entered one large room, which was divided into a kitchen and living area. The centerpiece of the living room was the fireplace, in front of which I imagined the old man spent a lot of time. To the right there was a darkened hallway. The physical structure, as impressive as it was, was not what caught my attention.

The interior of the cabin was in constant motion. Shadows, cast by the multitude of candles, danced throughout. The candlelight created an unending play of dancing light and shadow on the log walls. The sound of wood crackling in the fireplace served only to add to the effect. The scene was one of life and warmth.

The furniture in the living room, aimed as it was at the fireplace, was surrounded on all sides by greenery. Plants of all shapes and sizes called the cabin home. The effect of the shifting shadows cast by the candles and greenery was almost hypnotic. The walls were adorned by a number of paintings and other objects of interest. Before I could admire the scene any further, my host tugged insistently on my arm.

He led me into the kitchen and directed me to a seat at the table. The furnishings in the kitchen showed the same attention to detail that the décor did for the rest of the cabin. The table looked as if it was handmade. It was left rough around the edges, though smooth on top, bringing attention to the grain of the wood. The kitchen cabinets and doors were crafted in the same manner.

All in all it was quite the place.

After I had looked around and taken my seat I took a breath, gathering myself to deal with my apparently senile host. Looking up I found him smiling at me like we were old pals.

"So why did you decide to visit old Sam?"

"Is that your name sir? Sam?" I asked. Finally I was making some headway. That being said, I am willing to admit that my voice portrayed my own anxiety.

He looked momentarily uncertain. I decided it was in my best interest to give him time to think.

"Of course it is!" He responded emphatically, as if dispelling all doubt.

"I did not come to visit you, Sam." I tried, in the hope that there was in fact a saint for either the stranded or the brokenhearted. I had been told that god protects drunks and fools. Maybe there was also a saint for the senile. I really did not know.

"I was driving out to stay at a friend's cabin when my truck went off the road and into a snow bank."

I gave him some time to digest this.

"You did not come to visit me?" He looked crushed, and I felt almost as sorry for him as I did for myself. I sent a brief prayer out to god and any saints applicable, which seemed to have a remarkable effect because he perked up quickly.

That being said, my prayer was not as effective as I would have hoped.

"Nonsense, Al! You are here are you not?" Sam's logic was undeniable. "It's been so long." I had to stop myself before I said something inappropriate. He simple beamed and offered a smile, which I felt obligated to return to the best of my ability. "Would you care for some tea?"

To be honest I was rather chilled from the walk. The warmth of his cabin was helping, but tea sounded wonderful. When I nodded I watched as he struggled to his feet and made his way to the stove. It was an old gas stove, which he managed to light with little difficulty. With the kettle on he returned to his seat.

"Sam," when I spoke tried to keep any form of confrontation out of my voice, "I believe you have mistaken me for someone else."

He looked at me suspiciously, and I was at once reminded of the sign hanging outside. He let it pass however.

"Nonsense!" He repeated, with authority only the elderly can muster.

I briefly considered telling him that I was obviously more certain of my own name than he was of his. I decided it would be a bad call. Given my situation it seemed a foolish thing to do. Sam and Al would have to do. I decided to try him for some information.

"Sam?"

He looked at me as if suddenly realizing I was there once again.

"You remember what I said about my truck being stuck in the snow bank? How do you get in and out of town for supplies? Do you have a vehicle?"

"Well yes, but I lent it to a friend for the holidays." He considered before continuing. "I do have a snowmobile!"

My hopes rose a little. Perhaps there was someone close by that I could reach.

"Do you know anybody that I could go to for help?"

"Well I do have friends, Al." He answered somewhat haughtily. "You're not the only one who visits me."

If Sam and Al were old friends, I had to admit that the old coot might be very popular indeed. I held my tongue and tried once again for information

I leaned forward. "Do they live nearby?"

His brow furrowed as he considered.

"Well there is William's place just up the road, of course..." Maybe this was the break I needed. "But he's in town visiting family right now."

I began to realize I might be well and truly stuck. The snowmobile was a good thing but it was too dark to be exploring. It was entirely possible that nobody was around for miles. I could not have picked a worse time of year to get stranded, as far out of town as I was.

My shoulders drooped.

"I know, Al." I looked up. He was smiling as if my prayers had been answered and he had received divine inspiration.

I looked at him helplessly.

"Yes, Sam?"

"You can stay here with me."

I groaned inwardly. This was the very thing I had been trying to avoid.

"There are people out this way occasionally, and if all else fails the grater comes by once in a while to keep the road clear."

Ah, my vacation was off to a wonderful start! Apparently my Christmas gift this year was to come in the form of a new name. It was certainly not what I had requested. I considered for my situation for a moment. I had to admit that there was a small blessing. I had not thought of Sara in quite some time.

Tomorrow I would find a way out.

It was late. I accepted Sam's invitation for the night, assuring myself that it would be no longer than that. We spent the rest of the evening talking over our tea. I did my best to hold his attention, though he wavered despite my best efforts. My host had a good heart, even if his mind was not up to the task. Although he was obviously very suspicious of salesmen, I thought that he appreciated my company. The fact that I was not 'Al' mattered little. I entertained as best I could.

As the night drew to a close he led me to the spare room and wished me a good night. Well, he actually wished 'Al' a good night, but I accepted just the same. I settled down under the covers in a spare room, and tried to plan for the next day. It wound up being a rather futile exercise.

I fell asleep quickly.

You can call me 'Al.'

My dream that night began innocently enough. I was at a party with a group of people who were unfamiliar to me. I kept to my own as a result, looking around for someone I recognized. Eventually some unknown celebrant waved me over. When I drew close he offered a greeting.

'Hello Al, I am glad you could join the party.'

For some reason that introduction struck a deep chord of fear in me. It took a few moments to identify the problem.

My name was not 'Al.'

Although I was very aware that my name was not 'Al,' for some reason I could not recall who I was or why I was at the party. I drew back from the gentleman, my fear growing. I was surrounded by people I did not know, but that was not the problem.

The problem was that I did not know myself.

There was a bathroom by the entrance. In order to escape I entered the washroom with the idea of splashing some water on my face in hopes of jogging my memory. I took a look in the mirror and was horrified to see I was wearing a nametag.

It read 'Al' of course.

The fear I experienced as I looked at the nametag was palpable. There was only one thought on my mind. I had to escape the house.

I fled, out into a winter landscape.

I have no idea how long I walked. I was utterly consumed by confusion and the necessity of escape. My path took me deep into a wooded area. I had torn the nametag off when I exited the house, but for the life of me I could not remember who I was. The only thing that remained was a stubborn denial that I was not 'Al.'

I continued walking as I struggled with my memory. I could only wonder where I was. Eventually a structure came into view. I could make vaguely make out something in the center of a snow covered field.

As I emerged from the tree line I was overcome by the feeling that I was being watched. The feeling persisted as I drew closer to the structure in the center of the clearing. It was only when I looked over my left shoulder that I saw the large predatory cat emerging from the forested area. It approached at a steady pace, stalking me.

I began to run. My feet were unsteady on the snowy ground. I made my way towards the structure as quickly as possible. As I approached I saw that the structure would, indeed, offer shelter. It was a large steel cage with a door I could bar behind me when I walked in. If I could make it to the cage I would be safe. My fear and confusion grew in equal proportion. I did not know who I was or where I was.

At least the cage would offer protection.

I did not waste time looking back as I raced towards my refuge. When I arrived I opened the door and stepped quickly inside, closing the cage door behind me. Only then did I turn to look at the predator.

It was observing me calmly on the other side of the door. Its eyes glowed amber in the faint moonlight. It regarded me calmly for a moment, and without ceremony it turned and padded away.

I caught my breath and felt my heart rate slow, grateful for the refuge.

It took me some time to realize I had locked myself inside.

Sam

I awoke the next morning to the sound of my host, calling out in a sing-song voice that breakfast would be ready soon. The dream from the night before weighed heavily on me. I experienced a moment of panic as I attempted to get my bearings. My identity was no longer the issue, but I was disorientated and in an unfamiliar location. I stifled a groan as I reviewed my situation. I had lost the love of my life, I had fled town over the Christmas holidays, my car was stuck in a snow bank, and apparently I was now 'Al.'

I was at the weirdest bed and breakfast ever.

When I was finally ready to face the day, I got out of bed and made myself presentable.

What I failed to realize was that I was the salesman, and that the performance the night before had been for my own benefit.

I emerged from the room, attempting to exorcise both the sleep and the dream from my mind. I took a seat at the kitchen table. I paid little attention to Sam as he got breakfast ready, attempting only to coax my mind into functionality. At that moment I felt I was no better than my host had been the night before, dazed and confused. As Sam would tell me later, expectation was folly.

Gradually it dawned on me that something was wrong. At first I thought the feeling was a result of being stranded. The sensation that something was amiss persisted, but it was not until I finally looked up to see Sam, approaching with a plate of food, that I identified the cause my discomfort.

It was Sam who was out of place.

The stranger who approached was not the man who I had dealt with the night before. The man before me was no longer old and decrepit. He moved with a confidence that belied his graying hair. Gone were the dull, vacant eyes I had been introduced to the previous evening. I struggled with the notion that the Sam I had met the night before was living with a much more capable younger sibling. It was the only thing that I could think of that would account for the dramatic change in the man who wished me a good morning.

Not everything makes sense.

In my dream the previous evening I had forgotten my name. I awoke in a strange bed not cognizant of where I was. While I lay in bed I had prepared myself to face a senile old man.

Nothing could have prepared me for such a dramatic change in my host.

I experienced a moment of panic that had become all too familiar recently as I tried to make sense of the situation. I accepted the plate he placed in front of me, but had a much harder time with the man himself.

The change was so profound that at first my mind rejected the visible reality before me. I watched, dumbfounded, as he maneuvered around the kitchen. His moved with a grace and ease that belied his age. After taking a plate for himself he sat down, an amused smile turning his lips.

"How did you sleep, Al?"

At that point the name did not even register. I did my best to process the cognitive dissonance I was experiencing. My mind rebelled at the discrepancy, but it was the same man.

I was speechless.

"Well are you going to put some food in there? I worked hard on our mornings fare. Try some of it, please."

I came to the realization that I was doing a wonderful impression of a fish out of water.

He laughed quietly and started to eat.

I tried to cover my awkwardness with a mouthful of food, my eyes returning to him furtively as I ate. It was, indeed, the same man I had dealt with the night before. I had never before realized how much of a person was contained in movement and posture. I had never realized how much was said by the eyes. The features were the same. Everything else had changed. I felt strangely numb and disoriented.

We ate in silence as I tried to figure out something to say.

I finally put the fork down and made an attempt to gain purchase on the situation.

"What is going on here...?" My confusion was evident as my voice trailed off.

He looked up at me, his eyes clear and focused, finishing a mouthful before responding.

"All the world is a stage, Al. I take it you did not like the performance."

It took me some time to process the information. When I finally accepted the reality of my situation I still could not fathom why he would act in such a manner.

"Are you an actor?"

"No more than you are. Last night I was, for all intents and purposes, a very old man."

The distinction eluded me. "Why would you do that?"

He avoided the question for the moment and encouraged a course of action instead.

"It is in ones best interest to stay fluid. Being old is simply a state of mind. You should try it some time."

Sam's eyes glittered, an amused smile turning his lips. He looked down and went back to work on breakfast.

I shook my head. I thought I had lost control when I found myself stranded at the side of the road. Sam's sudden change simply aggravated my tenuous grasp on the situation.

Sam was not suffering the same issues. When he looked back up at me responded to my question with a cryptic response.

"One rarely asks 'why' in search of an answer. More often what we desire is to avoid the truth, which is always present. I could ask the same thing of you. 'Why' did you knock on my door?"

"Because I had too. I had nowhere else to go."

He nodded in agreement. "Yes, you are quite correct. I was an old man last night because I had to be. There was no other option."

His smile was irritating and beguiling at the same time.

"Now let's finish breakfast. It is much more filling than 'why's' are."

I had not eaten the night before. I suddenly found my curiosity in direct competition with my hunger. The second issue had the easiest solution, and I needed a moment to formulate some course of action. Staying fluid was rather cryptic, and senility would not help my situation much. I followed his lead and picked up my fork. As I ate I tried to come to grips with my odd situation. I knew I should be thinking of how to get my truck out of the ditch, but the vehicle was down the road, and I had a good mystery sitting directly across from me.

For the life of me I could not figure Sam out.

Sam finished eating and dabbed his mouth with a napkin with the elegance only an elderly gentleman can muster. He settled in his chair and considered me for a moment before speaking.

"I hope you enjoyed your meal. I spent a few years as a working as a chef."

I had to admit that it had been better than anything I would have made. The shock of his transformation had worn off. Though my hunger was sated, I found myself consumed by curiosity. I had a host fully capable of thought. That would make my situation much easier to deal with. Last night my situation had been more than a little desperate.

In the morning light things had a rather confusing clarity.

"A performance." I started laughing, perhaps in an attempt to allay my confusion. "You had me completely." I attempted to mimic his ease in the strange situation.

"Thank you. I take pride in what I do."

I suddenly realized that I was uncertain what to call him.

"Is your name actually Sam?"

"Yes it is, 'Al.'"

The previous evening I had accepted the name 'Al,' if only because I thought that I had no other choice. With his performance complete I assumed he would call me by my given name. I felt a sharp stab of irritation when he did not live up to my expectation.

I remembered the fear I had experienced in my dream, and decided to remedy the situation.

"I would really prefer that you used my own name."

"I am afraid I cannot do that."

His insistence gave my irritation a healthy push towards anger. I was a little surprised by vehemence of my reaction, but calling someone by their given name seemed not but a common courtesy. I was angry and I simply could not understand his motivation.

I was also very off balance, which aggravated the situation.

"You make a fool of me last night, treating me like a vacuum cleaner salesman, and now you refuse to call me by my given name? Do you treat all your guests in such a manner?" The anger was present in the tone of my voice.

Sam simply smiled and nodded slightly.

"Yes, as a matter of fact, I do. It depends on the guest in question of course. You are welcome here for as long as you wish to stay. The social ties you have made, on the other hand, have no place here. 'Al' has no such ties. Al is free from the shackles identity, and if you are to be my companion for a while, I require your freedom from such ties as well."

The anger persisted. Sam's senility the previous evening had forced me to indulge his strange behavior. With the realization that Sam was fully cognizant of his surroundings, I had no wish to indulge him any further.

My host was obviously a very eccentric individual.

I failed to see how Sam calling me by my given name would change anything. Maybe I did not have to put up with it anyway. Perhaps I could find help from a more reasonable source.

The memory of my fear the night before haunted me. I decided to find another option.

"So do you know anybody close by, Sam? Is there any way that we can get my truck back on the road?"

He considered me for a moment in silence.

"Despite my age last night, I did not mislead you otherwise. As far as I know there is nobody around for miles. At the moment I have no vehicle, and if you are stuck as badly as you said you were, I have no way of getting you out of the ditch. I know that we can get your truck on the road eventually. I would be pleased to have a companion for a while, and you do need help. You are free to stay, or you can try to find another way out."

He paused and met my eyes squarely.

"It is completely up to you, 'Al.'"

I attempted to tell myself that the name did not matter. My emotional response to the name told a very different story. The unfortunate thing was that I was not in a position to dictate terms. If he was telling the truth I had no other option.

There was no obvious way out of my situation. With my belly full, I decided that alleviating my curiosity could not make things any worse.

I decided to get to know my host.

Sam and I began our first genuine conversation. It would be the first of many to come. I started off tentatively at first, probably in response to my very strange situation. When he asked me about my interests and I started talking about my love of sports I became a little more comfortable. Sam had never played hockey himself, but he listened avidly as I discussed the game and the friends I had played with.

Before long I brought up the guitar that I received on my fourteenth birthday and my love of music. Up until that point I had avoided talking about Sara.

Our discussion carried on quite naturally. When I turned the conversation towards Sam and asked about his own interests, he told me he was an avid hunter. He also said that the sausages we had eaten for breakfast were the spoils of one of his own hunts. We discussed hunting for a while. I had fired a rifle on various occasions with my friends, but it had always been out camping, or occasionally on the firing range. Sam was more than willing to share his love of the hunt, but I found myself sharing more about myself than he offered in regards to himself.

Sam was an attentive listener, and provided something that my friends and family back home never had. Looking back, what I find strange is the freedom one feels when talking with a stranger. As I talked I considered what he had said about ties. With Sam I had none, and I had to admit it was liberating. It was exactly what I needed at the moment.

Why talking about myself alleviated my curiosity about my host was beyond me, but it had that effect. Sam offered little in the way of personal information about himself, but up until that point things the days discourse was relatively normal.

It would not continue that way for long.

"You spend most of your time out here by alone?" Despite the fact that I had been heading out here as well, I found this difficult to comprehend.

"Why?" I really could not see how my question was avoiding the truth.

Although it had been difficult to garner any information about Sam during the course of our conversation, he responded openly enough.

"When I was in my late teens I was hired for a few weeks work in a chicken coop." He raised his eyebrows and considered me for a moment before continuing. "I will never forget the deplorable conditions in the barn where the chickens were kept. They were bred for one specific purpose—as meal. Thousands were packed together in the barn where I worked. My observations while working there gave me first-hand experience with what we call the pecking order. Although the true enemies of the chickens were the handlers, they fought and pecked at each other for dominance."

He paused before continuing.

"Not only were they at war with each other, they were doomed from the start by those who bred them. I, of course, played a role in this. It was my job to round the chickens up and pack them in crates for their journey to the slaughterhouse."

His eyes took on a fierce glint as he finished his story.

"I can honestly say that working in that place changed me. All throughout my youth I wanted nothing more than to escape the confines of the city. It reminds me to this day of the barn in which I worked."

He shrugged and manner softened.

"So I spend most of my time out here. I am quite content, all things considered."

Sam was a born storyteller. As he told his tale I could avoid neither the horror of the chicken coop, nor his dismay having to work there.

I had to offer an argument anyway.

"But we are not food, Sam."

Sam raised his eyebrows and did not respond for a moment.

"There is a saying that what you do not know cannot hurt you. Unfortunately, what one is not aware of can be detrimental. The chickens, of course, did not know their final destination. They arrived there anyway. The same thing applies to your fellow man."

I did not want a confrontation, so I avoided stating the obvious. I was not going to be shipped off to a slaughterhouse. I left the issue alone for the moment and attempted to garner more information.

"Well how do you obtain food and supplies, Sam?"

"I am not a true hermit, Al. I have lent an acquaintance my vehicle over the holidays. When he returns he will bring me some supplies. I am more than capable of taking care of myself."

Last night I could not believe the old guy was out here all by himself. After interacting with him in the light of a new day I was left with little in the way of doubt as to his mental capacity, or even his physical vitality. Sam was as graceful as he moved around the cabin as he was a skilled conversationalist. We talked casually about the challenges of life far from town for a while. His manner was so disarming that I gradually found myself opening up.

Since the break-up I had been dwelling in my own, self-imposed isolation. The difficulty I experienced with my friends and family had only served to further my own withdrawal. I found in Sam an open ear, with no such discord.

I suppose it was unavoidable, but my own reason for being so far out of town came up. It was not my intent, but I found myself explaining my entire affair with Sara and my problems at home. As I told him about Sara I found myself looking at things different light. Perhaps it simply wasn't meant to be. Sara and I were from different worlds. I explained this to Sam to the best of my ability.

I almost managed to convince myself.

When I finished I looked up and found him regarding me with moist eyes.

I felt as if a great weight had been lifted from me. I had finally found someone I could talk to and who understood.

Sam put his elbows on the table and held his head in his hands. For a brief moment I thought he was crying. It took me a few moments to realize that the shaking shoulders were an indication of a different emotion entirely.

Sam was laughing. He looked up at me, his eyes still shining.

"I am sorry, you simply remind me of myself in my youth. Even a murderer will have a perfectly valid, justifiable reason for doing what he did. The reality of one's own situation is rarely faced directly. You are like the chickens I worked with, unknown unto yourself. As I explained to you earlier, nothing I said last night was fabricated. The simple reason for me calling you Al, is that I do not tolerate a salesman."

Thus, I had my second shock of the morning.

He reached into his pocket and withdrew my license. I had completely forgotten to ask for it back in the confusion the night before.

He tossed it onto the table between us.

"This is what you are selling."

I opened my mouth for a heated retort, but wound up closing it when I found no response forthcoming.

"When you asked why I acted as I did last night I told you acted as I had too. I do not need justification. Ultimately a name means very little. It is the individual that is important. That individual," he pointed at my license, "is in no way different than the senile man you met last night. It is part of the reason I had to put on a show. All the world is a stage, and that is something which you had to see for yourself. The chickens in the coop failed to recognize reality of their situation. You are no different. I have given you a name, and I can assist in providing a different perspective. You believe you are that picture on the table. I hold a very different opinion."

I was offended by such callous treatment. My anger got the better of me.

"I attempt to explain my situation and you laugh at me?" His course rebuttal in regards to my pain was offensive. "Do you treat all your guests in such a manner?"

"I always find salesman funny. No, I do not treat everyone like this, but not all of my acquaintances are salesman." The license remained on the table between us. "Your identity is a social construct, and has nothing of value for me. If you are to be my guest, I want you to embrace the freedom offered by existence, not the chains provided by the opinions of others. It is something I require this of all my guests."

He broke into a soft smile. "And here you are."

"But I am not selling anything, Sam." I found my hosts attitude abhorrent. My anger bordered on violence. I actually felt like hitting him.

He simply raised his eyebrows.

"You just explained why you came out here. Of course your break up was not your fault. You have explained why you acted as you did, and you attempted to draw me into your drama. You justified your position. You expressed your sadness, though having listened to you, the end result was unavoidable." He waved once again at the license.

I believe I was doing that wonderful fish impression for the second time in as many hours.

"The very idea that I am not interested in your sales pitch, nor believe in its validity, has you furious." He pointed again at my license. "You are stuck in the chicken coop, and its fence is built upon a foundation of compassion and pity. You will receive neither from me."

I tried to stem the tide of my anger but it was difficult. My anger was related in some way to the name he had given me, though far more intense. I did not have to put up with this shit. I told myself that, anyway. A little voice inside tried one more time.

'But it wasn't my fault.'

Some part of me knew that voice was wrong.

That realization, more than anything else, made remaining at the table unbearable. Once again my only option was flight. I had to remove myself from Sam's presence. My reaction was violent, but I could not really identify who or what the violence was directed at. Sam seemed the most likely target, but when I looked at him he simply looked back with a serene expression. He was completely unmoved. I rose in one jerking motion, snatched my driver's license from the table, and made my way to the door. I reached for my boots.

"I am going for a walk." It was all I could manage.

And that was the end of my first real talk with Sam.

The Ticket

I fled the cabin. When my radio had faded to static on my way out of the city I had said goodbye. My emotional state was already compromised. After only a few short hours in Sam's company it had been undermined completely. I had the impression that the ground had dropped from under me.

Looking back I would come to see that the result of Sam's influence was an honest expression.

My justifications were hollow. I was looking for someone to lend an ear and had found a stranger. In all honesty I had no real excuse for my behavior in regards to Sara. My response in regards to my own denial was something that I had been desperately trying to avoid.

I really had nowhere to go, but that did little to deter me. I simply needed to flee. How far do you have to go to escape yourself? My vehicle was an obvious refuge. Maybe it would look better in the light of morning. Maybe I could dig it out and get it back on the road. As I retraced my steps from the night before I felt self-pity shot through with flashes of anger. I needed to rid myself of both.

So I walked.

It seemed to be a continuing theme of my life lately. I had fled from Sara and my role as her boyfriend. I ran from my friends and those closest to me. Now I was on the run once again. Sam was an obvious target for my anger. The self-pity was mine alone. I took a moment to wonder where I would have gone if the truck were not present as a viable refuge.

I was again reminded of my dream the night before.

I knew what was bothering me the most. Although Sam's manners were lacking, he was right. As I walked I came to the realization that my anger stemmed from the same place that suffered every time he called me 'Al.' I also realized that I was grinding my teeth, so I took a few deep breaths in an attempt calm myself. I had opened up to Sam and his response had been laughter. The fact that he was right did not help. It only made things worse.

I had opened up to someone completely for the first time since my breakup, and had been laughed at in return. It was as if a sacred trust had been violated.

My anger turned towards my host. I vented my frustration as I walked. When I asked why he had put on such an act when I knocked on his door, he said he had no other choice. During my brief time in his company he had offended my sensibilities.

And I had absolutely no idea why.

I walked for a long time in silence. As I leveled out there was room once again for curiosity. What was the old man about, anyway? Oh I was still sore, but as I walked I drew closer to identifying the cause of my anger.

He was not playing by the rules.

So much of life is written through simple niceties—calling someone by their given name, for instance. Sam, on the other hand, did not seem so inclined.

My train of thought derailed as I came around the corner that showcased my driving skills. There my truck was, its front end hiding its head deep in the snow around the bend.

As I approached I must say I identified with the vehicle.

I walked around it and cleared the snow off the hood to the best of my ability. It had gone down deep off the shoulder of the road, into the snow bank. It did not take me long to realize digging it out was unlikely.

With little else in the way of options I unlocked the driver's door and slipped inside. Music had always helped sooth me, so I reached into my pocket for the key. My keys were there as well as something I did not recognize. I withdrew my hand to see what I had found.

It was a plain business card. SAM was featured in bold letters. Following his name was what I can only assume was his occupation. It simply read—SORCERER.

The keys were momentarily forgotten as I stared at the card. I tried to make sense of it. It was as if the card was a postcard of my life. There I was, miles away from the nearest phone with my truck stuck in a snow bank. My life was in a shambles. I was stranded. And I was holding a business card which belonged to a sorcerer. And all of my anger and despair was washed away in a bout of helpless laughter.

Was this my life?

After I had calmed down I considered a course of action. It is interesting how laughter can adjust your outlook. Nothing had changed. I had little choice but to return to Sam's cabin.

I was intrigued.

I sat in the truck and decided that two could play at this game. He had obviously planted the card for me to find. When I returned I would say nothing. I would be in a sorcerer's lair, but this time I would be more prepared.

There I was with keys in hand, complete with a business from a sorcerer propped on the dash like an alien artifact. I put the key in the ignition and turned it. Marooned as I was, my truck came to life easily enough. I chose a cd, sat back and closed my eyes, letting the music wash over me.

As I listened I came to the conclusion that I was at Sam's mercy. I had absolutely no idea what to expect in his company. I felt like I was lost in some strange fantasy. I also felt the need to respond in some way to the business card. What did I have?

I had my music, of course.

I did not have a business card that read 'rock star,' but I came to the realization that my guitar had a case of its own. It was an instrument, not a weapon, but for some reason it seemed important to return with it.

By the time the album ended, my demons had been truly exorcised. The anger was gone, replaced by something I could only consider respect for someone who had challenged my sensibilities. I exited my truck and strapped my guitar case to my back.

I had been crushed by the end of my relationship, lost and helpless on a senile man's doorstep, and shocked the next morning by a card carrying sorcerer. I had opened up to someone for the first time and been laughed at. I would returned armed with artistry.

The truly odd thing was that I felt more alive than I had in a long while.

The walk back passed much more quickly. My thoughts were quiet as I crunched through the fallen snow. When I reached the driveway I followed the path I had the night before. My footprints were still visible in the snow. The only physical change was the light of day.

This time I walked down the driveway to the cabin in the light of day. Before long I was at the cabin, the 'NO SOLICITORS' sign hanging from the doorknob. I paused a moment before going inside, and suddenly came to the realization that something was missing. What was missing was Sara. For the first time in over a month I had not been dwelling on my loss. I had something unexpected to occupy my mind. Perhaps the company of a stranger would be a welcome distraction. The strange thing was that, despite lingering heat of anger, I actually looked forward to seeing him again.

I did not knock, and attempted to appear as casual as possible as I brought the guitar in and took off my coat and boots. I entered the living room where Sam was sitting. The fire cracked and spit. He looked up from the book he was reading and offered me a greeting, taking in my guitar as I set it down. I responded calmly and took my seat.

I looked at him cautiously and waited for him to break the silence.

"Well, my wayward traveler has returned." He looked again at the guitar. "Will you play something for me at some point?"

I found myself pleased with his interest. Although my host left me feeling more than a little on edge, I felt more comfortable in possession of my guitar.

"Yeah, I would be willing to play for you."

"I will look forward to it."

He placed his hands on his thighs and looked me over. Apparently whatever he saw in me was to his liking. I did not feel inclined to ask why. "You seem to be in the habit of taking a leap." He commented.

I knew him well enough to be wary.

"What do you mean, Sam?"

"Well first of all you drove all the way out here over the Christmas holidays. That was quite a leap. When I shocked your right side I was a little worried we might get into a fight, but you jumped and ran out the door instead."

I did not know what he was referring to by my right side, but I had certainly experienced the shock.

Sam was observing me with a smile. In this case his eyes held neither animosity nor compassion.

"I was thinking about that on my walk. I have a habit of running away." I paused for a moment. "I found your business card in my pocket while I was out. What is sorcery? Is it a religious belief?"

"Sorcery is a methodology that can be applied very effectively to the world one inhabits. It revolves primarily around the manipulation of awareness and perception. A sorcerer explores the world by adjusting their beliefs and the resulting awareness."

I felt a sense of loss that was already becoming familiar in Sam's presence.

"Could it help me with my situation?"

Sam broke into a broad grin. "You are here, are you not? If we spend our time engaged in anything other than growth and development, it would be wasted. Nature wastes nothing."

Sam seemed to be including himself as well.

"Alright go ahead." I suppose that was my invitation.

Sam caught my eyes with a steady gaze.

"Anytime one's established identity is in question the reaction is extreme. Our established identity is generally forged through social interaction. Unfortunately the social mirror is a poor reflection of who one truly is. The present day expression of society is there only to serve itself, rather than the individuals which compose it. It should be the other way around. The social body must therefore defend itself against itself. The basic rule of the present social body is that what holds true for one, holds true for all. It is a faulty premise, and if that fault were realized, it would undermine our society as a whole."

Sam looked around warily, as if looking for some hidden eavesdropper, and held his finger to his lips. "Present day society is big business. The dream of humanity depends upon the wealthy." He grinned.

I was a more than a little lost. "Why should society serve the individual?" I had to ask.

"Society is composed of individuals. To the left of the individual one finds the environment. A healthy environment produces healthy individuals. The same holds true for society. Healthy individuals contribute to a healthy society. The unfortunate fact is that conflict is a part of nature. Adversity promotes growth. Humanities great mistake is the attempt to avoid that conflict. The conflict is unavoidable." Sam then looked at me with a smile. "You are a social jumper. At some point you may be of benefit to your fellow man."

What he called jumping I could only consider running. His tone painted it in a positive light, which had the effect of making me feel a little better. As for myself, I was sick of it. I said as much.

"Have you ever seen a flea circus?" He asked.

I shook my head in response.

"Training fleas is a rather simple process. One simply takes a number of fleas and places them inside a small jar. Now a flea's natural instinct is to jump. When in the jar, a flea will attempt to escape by jumping, the result of which it promptly hits its head on the lid. After repeating this process a number of times, the flea learns a simple lesson—to only jump so high. From that point it is simply a process of removing the fleas from the jar and placing them in a miniature circus. Their learned behavior keeps them trapped even in the absence of the lid."

He looked at me levelly.

"As people we have a tendency to wear chains as adornments. The more important the individual, the more glorious the attire. The chains are generally those wrought through social interaction and our own concept of self. We are ultimately the masters of our own fates. That being said, the identity most know is forged through social interaction. One-self is not an easy thing to flee from. Society is present through every interaction. The greatest leap one can ever take is that of life itself, when every experience is fresh and new. Afterwards most are simply bound to convention."

He paused, his expression challenging.

"And here you are, Al." His emphasis was on the name, and for the first time I accepted it without the familiar flash of anger. "Your identity is what caused you your problems in the first place."

I considered his story for a moment. Once again, I remembered my dream the night before. I realized at that moment that the best cage would be one you created for yourself. Who could possibly know you better?

"What does a sorcerer do, Sam?" I tried to hide my skepticism.

"A sorcerers concern is awareness. Since the study of awareness is the crux of sorcery, and what one perceives is a result of one's identity, that identity is crucial to the study in question. It is the reason I call you 'Al.'"

His expression softened slightly, his tone taking on an airy quality.

"Do you remember who you were before you were 'Al'?"

I decided to call his bluff. I scrunched my brow together as if trying to remember. Then I had a brainstorm. I reached into my pocket and grabbed my license. I lifted it to the light and studied it, as he had when we were introduced, and then set it on the table between us. I sold my performance to the best of my ability. If it was to be a show, I would do my best to keep up my own end.

I was not as talented as my host.

"Oh he does," Sam responded with a chuckle, "he does remember."

"Well the resemblance is striking, if nothing else." I commented with a touch of sarcasm.

"Now I have a more difficult question for you, Al. Who were you before that?"

I thought I had gained the advantage. I found myself puzzled once again.

"To be honest Sam, this is the first time I have ever suffered a name change."

"Well that is probably true. The point I am trying to make is that you were someone before you answered to your name. There was a time in your life when you were free of chains. I am asking if you remember."

I really could not figure out what he was talking about. I was quite certain I had never been anyone else. For a moment I thought he was talking about a previous life. Sam let the silence grow as I considered. The silence fostered a moment of understanding.

"You're talking about when I was a baby?"

Sam smiled broke out in a quiet round of applause.

"Yes, you have it now. I am talking about the time before you donned your chains—before the weird sounds of your parents and other teachers took on any relevance. As an infant one exists it an undefined, timeless state. Our concept of reality is handed down to us by our parents and teachers. That does not make the reality that our teachers inhabit in any way 'true' or 'correct.' It simply is. I am talking about the time before you realized—'when they make this noise they are referring to me.'"

I failed to see the relevance.

"No I can honestly say I don't, Sam. I do know that at that time I pooped my pants and had to be changed."

Sam's laughter filled the cabin. I had to smile in return.

"Yes, it is socially unacceptable to soil oneself. You learned that, as well as proper conduct from those around you. When I laughed at you earlier you experienced behavior from me that was not properly established social conduct. The rules are something dictated by society as well. Once again, it does not make those rules correct. What I want you to realize is that you were already someone before your identity was formed."

"I would like the think my identity is still being formed." I commented.

Sam met my eyes and nodded.

"That is very true—and here we sit."

Silence fell between us for a moment, and Sam's eyes took on a faraway look.

"The most beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life was a young mother and a baby when I was taking the bus home years ago. The baby was still an infant, and did not yet have the capacity for speech. That in no way hindered the mother and baby from having a heartfelt conversation. It started with the baby making a noise, and without hesitation the mother responded in kind. She was not making ga-ga, goo-goo noises, she simply responded naturally and sincerely with some noises on her own. The two of them carried on that way until my stop came up and I was forced to leave the bus. That was truly beautiful."

Sam caught my eyes and I realized the depth of his emotion.

"That child will grow up with a strong left side. You said that your own identity, much like that of the child on the bus, is still being formed. You are correct. It is being formed as we speak. There is a saying that appeals to sorcerers. 'Guide yourself by the light of the stars, not by the lights of every passing ship.' Who you were as a child is the light of a star, and I will admit that I am simply a passing ship. What we are attempting to identify are the forces that shape ones identity. The light of that star is sadly hidden for most. Before you were Al, you were somebody else. Let us go back to my analogy of the flea for a moment. What impresses me is that you identified one of the major players in the game. You realized who screwed the lid on the jar. And you jumped regardless."

He took in my body with a wave, and repeated his earlier comment. "And here you are."

Apparently I was smarter than I thought.

"Sorry Sam, I must have forgotten. Please refresh my memory. Who is the other player in the game again?"

"Why, that which served to shape your identity in the first place, of course." He pointed to the license on the table. "You told me about it before I laughed at you earlier. It is part of what I found so amusing. You described your difficulty after your breakup with your friends and family. You told me that you had the impression that they wanted your relationship to fail."

As he spoke, I was reminded once again of the feelings which prompted me to leave town. I tried to tell myself that I simply wanted to leave town to get away from the apartment. That was a major reason of course.

Sam was right though. When I thought about what I had seen in regards to those closest to me it still bothered me.

"So what, my friends and family are the other players?"

"In a sense. Society has written the ticket you presently hold. Your friends and family are members of society. Your identity was formed through social interaction. Society is an entity in its own right. You told me that after being told you were not good enough for Sara you began to spend more and more time with your friends. Your identity was more at home with them than it was with your girlfriend. You validated both yourself and the opinion of society through your behavior."

"It was not what I wanted at all." My confusion was shot through with the pain of my loss.

"That is the point I am trying to make. What society judged and found wanting was your relationship. When you were with Sara you were plagued by the idea that you were not good enough. I am afraid to say that what you did was prove the opinions of those around you. You just wanted to be yourself. Who you are is dependent on social ties. Your guitar playing and your relationship with Sara come from a different aspect of your being entirely."

This time his expression held the compassion that was lacking earlier.

"Unfortunately, in order to validate yourself, you had to validate society as well."

His comments hurt more than I can say. The pain of my loss was poignant once again. His statements left me unsure of who to blame. Should I blame society or myself? He seemed to be saying they were one in the same.

I looked up to find him waiting for a response. Once again I was experiencing emotional turmoil. I had to act to quell it. I reached into my pocket and withdrew his business card, placing it beside my license on the table.

I could not say I agreed with him at that point. My emotional state was turbulent and confusing. I could not deny the behavior that had led to Sara leaving me. Sam was offering me a motive for my actions. I had none of my own, and that was precisely what I had left town to find.

"I will say this again." He ignored the business card for the moment. "On some level you identified the issue I am describing and you left town. You jumped. Most people never make the attempt, and are unknowingly chained for life. They never get another offer. You made the attempt, and my offer stands." He pointed to his business card. "Now you are here with me. For the moment ignore the fact that you hit a snow bank. Forget about 'why.' With me, you are Al."

"And you are a sorcerer."

"I use the term loosely, but yes, I am."

I once again felt a little beaten up. I said nothing.

"Society is an entity, Al. As a member of society your ticket is written. The lid of the jar is not there, you are part of the circus, and though you have your freedom, you remain part of the show."

This time my feelings got the better of me. Maybe jumping would help. I decided to argue with him rather than run.

"I believe my destiny is my own, Sam. I am certain my own actions determine my failure or success. The fault was my own, you told me that yourself." I realized it was something I had already accepted

"True." He considered me for a moment. "The thing is you were never given another option. That is the sad thing about the inheritance of ones humanity. What was true at one point can change like the weather. The reality of one situation evolves constantly. If we accept what is handed down to us without question our fate is inevitable."

Sam paused for a moment before continuing.

"You told me you enjoyed playing hockey. In a hockey game there is a winner and a loser. What the average individual fails to realize is that the goal of society IS society. Consider this. If you were the owner of the NHL, and your goal was the game of hockey itself, you would not care who won or lost. You would simply want as much interest in the game as possible."

He gave me a moment to think about this. He picked up the business card and turned it over slowly.

"I know this is difficult to accept. When I say that as a member of society ones ticket is written, it is a simple truth. You are a member of the human race. That is unavoidable. Society is formed through social interaction. One's identity is tied to that interaction. You were never given an opportunity to question your social membership, and never having been given the opportunity, you could not refuse."

I looked up to see him smiling at me blandly.

"You could take a break for a bit. You could spend some time with me." He picked my license and the business card, and handed me both, along with an offer. "Even if it is only briefly, you could let me write you a new ticket."

I really did not give my response much thought. I decided to jump once again.

"Well Sam, I guess you can call me 'Al'."

And that was my introduction to sorcery.

2

The Sorcerer

Magic and Mystery

Later, when I reminisced about my time with Sam, I would look at my acceptance of a new name as the first step on a path. I had decided to humor his eccentricity. The anger was no longer an issue.

Upon leaving I would wonder if, along with my name, my anger had been replaced with something else entirely.

Sam and I spent the rest of the morning engaged in the pleasant distraction of conversation. I was surprised when Sam excused himself and announced that he would begin preparing lunch. The morning had passed quickly. I offered to help, but Sam said that the preparation of meals was a personal thing. I let the chef do his work, while I took the time to make a more detailed exploration of the cabin, peppering him with questions while he busied himself with his own spices in the kitchen.

The thing that gave the cabin its rustic charm was that it was constructed almost entirely out of rough-hewn logs. Much of the furniture was made in the same style.

I learned that the cabin was made from timber taken from the surrounding landscape. Its construction had taken him and a few acquaintances an entire summer. From Sam's responses to my questions I was given the impression that he considered the cabin part of the landscape itself.

Later I would come to the understanding that he considered the cabin to be part of the landscape the same way that he, himself, was part of the cabin.

I spent some time admiring the work. The cabin was nostalgic of a simpler time. The modern conveniences that were present had been worked in with subtle care.

I turned my attention away from the physical structure to his choice of décor. It was around noon, so the candlelight was no longer an issue. I tried in vain to identify some of the plants, which dominated the rest of the available space. Sam was humming happily while he worked. I decided to explore silently while he finished up.

The furniture in the living room had the fireplace as a focal point. Sam had a few carvings on the mantle, with a painting featured on the wall above. The first carving I picked up was an intricately carved figure of a crow. It was done in some form of jet black stone. I admired the detail. You could see every feather on its body. I wondered if it had been carved by an Inuit artist.

Apparently Sam noticed my attention.

"I have a great deal of respect for those people."

I assumed he was talking about the carver.

"Compared to our own language, theirs is complexity veiled in stark simplicity. We have a tendency to talk and talk, and say very little. Crows, on the other hand, say more with less. Their language deals with awareness directly."

I filed this comment away as I replaced the carving. I still had no idea what sorcery was all about. Perhaps it was a form of shamanism.

On the far side of the mantle was another carving, this one of a wolf. It was done with the same skill and attention to detail that the crow was. The wolf was in the process of howling, and I could only wonder if it was the moon that inspired such devotion.

The thing which struck me as odd was the angel between the two carvings. It was a cheap ceramic piece, poorly painted, and appeared to be of the sort you could pick up in any novelty shop.

I shrugged and turned my attention to the picture hanging above. It was a painting of a field, with mountains in the background. Centered in the picture was a gateway made of stone, which appeared to lead nowhere in particular. It reminded me of the monoliths at Stonehenge. During my time with Sara she had introduced me to a wide variety of paintings. The painting above the fireplace had been done by a skilled hand.

Sam called, bringing an end to my explorations. He announced that lunch was ready, so I made my way to the kitchen table and took my seat. He placed my plate in front of me. The omelet that it featured was accompanied by hash browns and sausages. I realized I was hungry.

I thanked him, and turned my attention to the meal before me. It was delicious.

Sam had insisted that he cook himself, but he had no such issue with the cleanup afterwards. When we were finished eating our roles reversed, with Sam relaxing in the living while I busied myself in the kitchen. When I was done cleaning up I took a seat on the couch across from him. Sam and I spent the rest of the afternoon talking. He was both pleasant and entertaining. Whenever I attempted to learn more about him he deftly maneuvered the conversation away from himself. All I could pry from him was that he grew up in a small rural community in British Columbia.

I was waiting for him to bring up the topic of sorcery, but he was not so inclined. I was surprised at how quickly the afternoon passed. Although he had neither phone nor television, he was surprisingly well versed in current events. He did say that he stayed elsewhere from time to time. I could only wonder where.

I got the feeling that although he enjoyed his privacy, he was not isolated.

As the day wore on my curiosity got the better of me.

"Tell me about sorcery, Sam. Is it some kind of magic?" Over the years I had learned that other people's beliefs said a great deal about their character. I was really more curious about my strange host than the beliefs he held. Later in our relationship I would come to the understanding that nobody's beliefs should be taken lightly.

I would also come to learn that Sam's offer of a new ticket was in no way frivolous.

Sam seemed to consider the question for a moment. He then rose and motioned for me to follow, pulling out my chair as we reached the kitchen table. I was intrigued. When I was seated he went to the fridge and returned.

Instead of following suit and taking a seat himself, he displayed an egg in his right hand with a dramatic flourish. With a deft gesture he tossed the egg into the air. I watched it rise about a foot, falling to be caught once again in the same hand. He then passed the open left over his closed right. Everything happened quickly. He displayed an empty left hand.

The pace did not change at all, and Sam had my complete attention, which probably worked to my disadvantage. He finished by making a throwing gesture directly towards me, once again with the right hand, which was apparently in possession of the egg. I jumped despite myself.

Of course, like any good magician, he then displayed two empty hands. The egg had vanished. He closed his right, smacked the bottom of it with his open left, and the egg reappeared, rising into the air a short distance before being caught in the very hand which it started.

I gave him a round of applause for the show. All the world is a stage. It was, without a doubt, a good performance.

Sam took a bow.

To be honest I was more than a little disappointed. When I had first found the business card I was interested, though skeptical. After talking with him I thought that maybe, just maybe, the business card was something other than a novelty souvenir.

I had expected something more than parlor tricks.

"So that was sorcery, Sam?"

"It was an example of a fundamental principle of sorcery. Impressive, was it not?" He grinned impishly.

"Yes, it was." To be honest I had found his act the night before more inspiring.

He seemed to pick up how I was feeling, and burst out laughing.

"What is so funny?"

"Oh I am just remembering the time I had my first demonstration. I felt much the same way you are feeling now. Sorcery is akin to life, Al. Life is the greatest magic of all, yet for some reason the participants always feel cheated. Perhaps my little trick was petty compared to existence, but it should be appreciated just the same."

"It was a very good trick Sam."

"But you were expecting something more."

"Well, I think it was sleight of hand." I could not claim to know exactly how he had done it, but I had learned a few card tricks, among other things, in my youth. I would never have printed up business cards claiming to be a sorcerer.

Sam was in no way self-conscious. He shook his head.

"The focus of sorcery is perception and awareness. People place value on money, material goods, and the esteem of others. The true wealth of life is the capacity for awareness. Wealth is attention, be it good or bad. My trick brings to light something that sorcerers refer to as the 'World of Appearances.'"

"What is the 'World of Appearances,' Sam?"

"It is what is wrought by the nature of one's own being. The goal of every sorcerer is freedom from the shackles that bind us. The worst chains are those we have a tendency to wear as adornments. For most of humanity they are a source of pride. Our awareness of the universe is defined by limits set by our own being. Those limitations are quite natural. We are limited in terms of life-span, what we can perceive with the physical senses, and what we are aware of in general. Like our social identity, they define who we are. For the most part we see what we already know. When I did my trick the egg 'appeared' to vanish. It was very similar to the trick my own teacher performed."

Sam paused before continuing.

"The focus of sorcery is awareness. In the case of your own perception, the egg actually vanished. In regards to my path as a sorcerer, whether it was sleight of hand or not is irrelevant. If your senses had not been fooled, you would not have jumped. There are many aspects of existence that are either go unnoticed or are present though never realized. One is surrounded at all times by the mystery of existence. A sorcerer acts as a midwife to that very mystery. A pretty woman in a tight dress gets your attention because you dream of what lies underneath. The average man believes that when the dress comes off, he has won. A sorcerer is wise to that error."

For the life of me I could not figure out what a pretty woman in a tight dress and sleight of hand had in common.

He winked at me with a smile.

"You think you know how I performed my trick."

I was getting a little frustrated. I could not help thinking were that his explanations were similar to his trick.

"As I said, I believe it was sleight of hand."

Sam nodded sagely.

"You just told me that you 'think' you know how I did my trick. The truth is you do not know. It makes no difference whether it was sleight of hand or not. I have the capacity to be a senile old man or I can make an egg vanish with you none the wiser. It is your own perception which is most important."

Sam paused for a moment and smiled at me.

"Most people are a social body with a mind they carry around like a floating balloon on a string. They consider the mind a separate affair, and that fallacy causes issues. On one hand you 'think' you know, when the reality is that you have no idea. I can perform other tricks as well." That warning was lost on me at the time, but I later in our relationship I would learn that the warning was a necessity. "A sorcerer makes no such distinction between the mind and body. A sorcerer has a very different mind. You jumped when I pretended to throw the egg at you. I want you to be aware of a very simple truth here. Your body 'thought' something completely different. Your body is closer to the truth of the situation."

He raised an eyebrow in query. "So why the distinction between body and mind?"

My frustration was deepening, apparently along with the mystery. I really did not understand the point he was trying to make. I thought my reaction was stupid. I should have known better than to jump.

"You are correct about the trick." Sam continued. "It was sleight of hand. Although you were right in your assumption, your body told you a different story altogether. My trick is an excellent example of the World of Appearances, and everyone participates in their own world, which is a result of subjective reality. Your belief that you know how I did my trick is in conflict with your own body. There is no such conflict in my own being. If you really knew how I did it you would not have jumped."

He raised his eyebrows in query.

"Do you know how I did it?"

I had a few theories, but he had moved deftly. I had obviously missed something. I still did not understand the distinction he was making. I knew I was right, even if the actual mechanics eluded me.

Despite my belief, I had to shake my head in response to his question.

"A sorcerers concern is awareness, and what is perceived as a result of that awareness. Your body, although wrong, is actually more reliable than your mind. Now you could just have easily have 'thought' that I was going to shove the egg up my arse, squat on the table, cluck like a chicken, and lay an egg. That is the wonderful thing about the mind. You can always think whatever you want. The fact of the matter is you do not know how I did the trick. The rest is simply speculation."

I could not get over thought that he was just splitting hairs.

He picked up the egg, which he had placed on the table, and looked at it for a moment.

"If you want I will do the trick again." He looked at me with a slightly malevolent smile. "I will do it slower this time, if you wish."

I was up for the challenge. I shook my head.

"No, just do it again." I would pay more attention this time. That promise did not work to my benefit either.

And up the egg went once again. And once again the pass with the left hand. And in the end I sat there, dumfounded. In this case it was not due to Sam's skill at sleight of hand, it was due to the fact that I had sticky egg and shell running down my face. This probably served to complement my shocked expression.

Sam burst into gales of laughter.

I was too stunned at that moment to be angry. As the egg dripped onto the table I found my tongue added some choice language to the mixture.

"I told you your body was smarter. Go get yourself cleaned up while I prepare dinner."

Expectation

I could hear Sam humming happily in the kitchen as I went to work in the bathroom. I was cooking something up as well. Anger was present once again, simmering over the heat of my wounded pride. Sam had shocked me again, and again my emotional state was suffering. As I cleaned the egg of my face I realized that this time I would not be running off. To be honest I had nowhere to go. During my brief time with Sam I had been the victim of many surprises.

It was something I could prepare for, if not avoid.

I believe the saying is swallowing your pride. When I exited the bathroom it was followed by a pleasant dinner. The pride was something that might be useful at a later date.

I was quite full after dinner.

Sam put me to work cleaning up afterwards. I suppose it was only fair, as it was his food I was eating, or in the worst case wearing. Once everything was put away Sam announced that we were going for a walk.

At least I would not be running.

We got dressed for the weather and set out. The clouds were painted in oranges and yellows and reds by the setting sun. Sam led me to a trail behind his cabin. I followed alongside, admiring the scenery. The silence was complete for a time, but eventually I had to comment on the day.

"You seem to enjoy surprising people, Sam."

"It is one of the pleasures of my vocation. A sorcerer does his best to limit expectation. Expectation is the driving force of the day to day mechanisms of society. The problem is that the world at large does not give a shit about our expectations."

Sam looked at me with a smile. "A sorcerer's work need not be a chore."

Although no magic had been involved, I had to admit that my surprise had been something in itself. Perhaps there was a lesson in it somewhere. What frustrated me was that I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to be learning. I still had no idea what sorcery was about.

"When you call yourself a sorcerer I cannot help thinking about something magical or spiritual. I think I have missed the point of the lesson."

Sam laughed.

"You will never forget what you have just learned. I am sorry, but a well-timed shock or a sudden fright can be very beneficial. It can have the effect of resetting a system. You expect to understand with your mind, when in fact I am communicating with your body." We walked for a bit before he continued. "I suppose that if I do not appeal to your mind, it will feel neglected and make a fuss. The physical world has physical laws. Although reason can be applied quite effectively in scientific endeavors, what motivates people rarely has anything to do with those physical laws. That is where the spirit comes in."

I thought about this comment as we walked. Although I did not consider myself a religious individual, Sam's reference to the spirit peaked my curiosity. I also came to the conclusion that he placed a great deal of value upon physicality. I was intrigued with what he had said about what motivates people.

I still had no idea where the spiritual fit in. As if on cue, Sam addressed my interest.

"A sorcerer is motivated by the spirit. When an individual acts in accordance with their own unique spirit true freedom is realized. In regards to society there are social rules and conventions. The physical world also has strict physical laws. That being said, every creature has a link with the spirit, and the result is the astounding diversity of life. When you so knowingly assured me that people are not food, you were very mistaken. It is the ultimate fate of every form of life in the universe to provide sustenance, in turn, for other forms of life. Think about that before your next meal. The spiritual realm is as deadly as the physical one, the danger simply takes different forms."

"Well where is the spiritual realm?"

He offered a broad, sweeping gesture to the surroundings. "The spirit is present throughout existence, though it manifests differently for everyone. People generally have a dull link with the spirit. The result is boredom, which they then try to appease in any manner conceivable."

We walked in silence for a long time as I attempted to digest what he was telling me. I looked around at the surrounding landscape as we made our way through the woods. The chill air made my breath fog before me. The sun had gone down behind a rise, and though the sky was darkening, it was still a mix of lovely colors.

As I looked around I realized what was bothering me about Sam's theory. He appeared to draw no distinction between physicality and spirituality. Sam had been talking about expectation. I guess my expectation was that a person believed either one thing or the other.

"I was simply hoping for something more magical than sleight of hand." I commented.

Sam chuckled quietly.

"There is no magic in the world, Al. That being said, you will not live a day of your life without being beset by the magic of the universe. Perhaps you are watching television and a touching moment brings a tear to your eye, or a friend makes a joke that elicits a laugh. The laughter and the tears are the true magic of existence."

I found myself in a state I had gotten to know quite well over the course of the day. I was both intrigued and a little disappointed.

Despite having identified the cause of my confusion, I found myself unable to process what I found to be a foreign mentality.

"You said that everyone has a link with the spirit, and that the result is the diversity of life. How is it possible that there are atheists?"

Sam laughed quietly as we walked.

"I told you that a sorcerer does his utmost to limit expectation. The problem is what you know of religion. It involves a deity that needs the praises of his creation." Sam snorted dismissively. "The spirit has no such need."

I thought about this for a moment, and laughed myself.

"I guess I really do not know what the spirit is."

Sam halted his progress and looked at me, forcing me to stop as well.

"Of course you do. The problem is the concept that one's physical existence is somehow removed from the spiritual." He reached out and brought his hands down with a firm slap on both of my shoulders. "That is your spirit."

I stood for a moment in my spiritual confusion. I am certain I made quite the picture, but Sam carried on without looking back. I could do little but attempt to catch up.

We walked for a time in silence, the only sound that of our feet in the snow. I had little to say, so I took the opportunity to organize my thoughts. I came to a rather strange conclusion.

My parents were not religious, and I really could not claim to be either. Exposure to the topic is unavoidable. Some of my favorite songs dealt with religion in one way or another. I had watched movies and television programs that had religious themes as well.

Sam's perspective on the spiritual was obviously very different from that which I had been subjected too. His warning that the spiritual could be dangerous made me wary, but despite my knowledge of the concept of hell, I was confused by the fact that my own belief in the spiritual left little in the way of room for negativity.

It was a puzzle for which I had no answer.

"Someone told me a secret once." Sam broke the silence. "There are three things one should not discuss in life—politics, religion, and what one does in the bedroom. I am afraid I have trespassed. I would like to resume our discourse on expectation."

I felt a sense of relief.

"Go ahead, Sam."

"I told you that I am talking to your body. That will hold true throughout our time together. The problem with the mind is that it is very picky, and likes to judge what is relevant and what is not. The body, much like the unconscious, has no such filter. It is why your body jumped the first time I threw the egg at you. Your mind was somewhere else entirely."

How could I forget? I felt the need to defend myself for some reason.

"I know I agreed to let you write me a ticket during our time together. I have to warn you that I will make up my own mind in the end."

"Of course you will, Al." The emphasis was once again on the name. "Your body will simply spend the next few days in my company."

"I also choose what kind of music I am going to listen too, and what movies or television programs I am going to watch." I sounded a little petulant for some reason I could not identify.

Sam halted our progress and turned to face me once again with a smile.

"You are completely correct." Sam's expression was one of amusement. "Of course, you never sit in front of the television when there is nothing of interest on, nor do you go to a movie you did not particularly want to see out of boredom."

His eyes held mine for a moment, and I had to concede defeat.

"An individual is the sum of their experiences. Assume I am correct. Can you identify the problem?"

One problem was evident immediately. When Sam brought up life experiences I must say I cringed. I think everyone has a few moments they would rather deny or forget. I simply tried to avoid thinking of them.

I said as much. Sam responded by shaking his head emphatically.

"That is not what I am after, though I would advise spending time with any memory you are tempted to avoid. Our lives are made of days and months and years. Moments are with us, certainly, but they are simply moments."

His comments dispelled the lingering ghosts of embarrassment. Sam caught my eyes again encouraging a response. He had asked about a problem.

"I enjoy our talks, Sam. I fail to see a problem."

Sam had lowered his head, and I saw his shoulders shaking. It took me a moment to realize that he was once again laughing silently.

"What do you find so humorous, Sam?"

He looked up, his eyes glittering darkly. He then turned and continued on his way.

"Let's go back to the television, to which so many devote so much of their lives. Do you make a note of all the commercials you like? Do you go out and buy every item you see advertised?"

I laughed in return. "Of course not. I try to tune commercials out."

Sam nodded gravely.

"Of course you do. Do you have friends that are slaves to advertising?"

I felt a slight sense of unease.

"I really don't think so."

"Do you know anybody that rushes out and buys the things they see advertised on TV?"

I honestly could not say that I knew anyone who watched the shopping channel. I shook my head. For some reason I really did not like where the discussion was heading.

Sam continued regardless.

"Businesses spend millions and millions of dollars every year on their advertising. Election campaigns are big business as well. If they are wasting their money, why would they bother?"

I remained stubbornly silent.

"People remain deliberately unaware of the fact that those commercials are very effective. Some are more effective than others. The companies spend a great deal of money on advertising because in the end they make a great deal more. That is a simple truth of marketing. You said you do not know what the spirit is, but you do. The spirit is you, and you are ignorant by choice, because the truth would inconvenience you. When people are in front of the television they know that they are being conditioned by the advertisements they watch. Their ignorance is, once again, a choice."

I felt a brief flush of anger as I walked alongside. "Why would anyone choose ignorance?"

"'Everybody knows, it is the not knowing that makes life bearable.' That is a quote from Neil Gaiman, one of my favorite authors. There is some truth to the statement." He paused for a moment. "If you consciously accepted the reality of advertising you would not subject yourself to television. I know that I am the sum total of all my experiences. Why would I make myself an advertisement for something I do not like?"

I could think of no suitable response. In my mind's eye I had a vision of myself wandering around with a big Pepsi logo tattooed on my forehead.

I had to smile at the image despite how I was feeling. Sam continued.

"We are wandering off topic. The issue for the evening is expectation. I have told you that an individual is the sum of their experiences. Do you see the problem now?"

I thought about where the walk had taken us so far. I also considered what he had said about commercials. What I saw, I did not like it at all. I hesitated to voice my concern. Sam encouraged me with a gesture.

"I guess I have seen a great deal of things that I really have no interest in."

Sam clapped his hands emphatically.

"Precisely! Vast amounts of your time are spent being inundated by information that you have no interest in whatsoever. That is a tragedy in itself. What makes it worse is that people delude themselves into thinking that those commercials can be ignored. The unconscious mind processes everything one experiences. It is one reason I do not tolerate salesmen. They have nothing to offer me. For a sorcerer true wealth is awareness. I will not squander mine to be pandered to by salesman or commercials. I am already in possession of all I require."

I had to admit that the last statement was something to strive towards. I was puzzled by his emphasis on the unconscious. I asked him about it.

"In regards to sorcery, the unconscious is found to the left, the waking mind to the right. Unfortunately most people's lives simply revolve around the fulfilment of unconscious expectations. Wearing a blindfold might be comforting for some, but not for a sorcerer. Wouldn't you rather know?"

Sam continued along the path ahead of me. His comments caused a shiver that started at the base of my spine and worked its way up. For some reason I felt fear as well. At that moment I could not tell you why.

My knowing would come later.

"Your awareness is the most valuable thing you possess. What a waste to squander it. To be so important that you can simply tune out for the duration of a commercial. There is a book called Walden by Henry David Thoreau which has a wonderful quote. 'As if you can kill time without injuring eternity.' You asked why I live out here. I live far removed from society for a reason, Al. My awareness is my most precious commodity, and I refuse to waste it on nonsense." He once again took in the surroundings once again with a broad sweep of his arm. "This is what I choose. Why trade this for a bright sign that says—'Great New Flavor!'"

The vehemence in Sam's voice was obvious. My stomach rumbled loudly which embarrassed me to no end. Maybe my pride was surfacing once again. I desperately wanted to deny what he was saying.

"During your brief stay with me I have shocked your expectations on numerous occasions. When you woke this morning you were expecting to deal with a senile old man. Your expectations were faulty. When you shared your grief with me you were expecting comfort and compassion. Once again, I was not going to invest. Your life is yours by choice. Why would I pity either the love or the loss? The last thing you expected was laughter in response. You have been conditioned by society to think that when you share grief, those you share it with should experience it as well. I hold no ties with the salesmen of society, and thus I have no compassion for them. The last thing you expected was to end up with egg on your face. Why? You did not consider the possibility that I would throw the egg at you. Once again, your expectation was erroneous."

We walked in silence for a while, while I considered what he had said about ignorance. Sam did not allow me to dwell on the issue. He interrupted my train of thought as we continued.

"Our unconscious expectations rule a large portion of our lives. It makes an individual an easy target for those who do not subscribe to such expectations. Earlier you wound up with egg on your face as a result. I have only used commercials as an example. We expect life to be the way it is. You get a job, buy a car, fall in love, and purchase a house with a white picket fence. These are things one pursues without question."

I was attempting to dismiss an odd sense of foreboding. I really did not see how any of the things he had listed were a problem.

"The fulfillment of unconscious expectations leaves one without freedom of choice. When our expectations are not fulfilled it can cause even more serious issues."

"How is that, Sam?" I wanted to know.

"When you are on your way home from work at the end of an evening, and approach a green light, you expect to be able to drive through safely. Those are the rules. The guy who has spent the last four hours at the bar might not be paying attention. The best form of worship in life is the simple act of paying attention. That holds true for everyone, regardless of their beliefs. The eyes are always the best defense. There is always the unfortunate possibility that neither you nor the drunk will make it home."

I was struck by the thought of an ex-girlfriend who I had not thought of in years. When we were walking downtown she would always insist on crossing at intersections. I have always had a habit of jaywalking. One day, while walking to work, she was crossing the street and got hit by a truck. Her crosswalk had said walk.

She wound up getting a settlement of eighty thousand dollars, for a few stitches and bruised ribs. She then broke up with me. I had not thought of her since.

I burst out laughing.

Sam, obviously puzzled, turned and asked what was funny. When I told him the story he laughed as well.

"Isn't it odd that she got paid being for being unobservant, while your only reward is safely crossing the street?"

I must admit I felt a little ripped off.

"To return to our earlier topic, most people's lives are drawn inevitably towards their unconscious expectations. Their futures are like water running down a hill—destination expectation. They live their lives never questioning or exorcising their own freedom. For most people that is enough in life. They find a good job, a mate, and the house with the white picket fence. There is nothing wrong with that. A sorcerer simply chooses another path."

"Where does the sorcerer's path lead, Sam?" I was rather curious.

"The sorcerer's path leads here, of course."

I could not help thinking about what it would have been like to settle down with Sara. I could almost see the white picket fence.

What I had failed to see was that we had arrived at a bench covered by a wooden awning. Sam brushed some snow off before taking a seat. I looked around suspiciously. If this the destination I wanted to be prepared.

Sam simply motioned for me to take a seat.

Twilight painted the surroundings in muted detail. The bench was situated on a rise, facing a small valley flanked by trees. The silence of the winter evening was complete. Although I had Sam beside me, the scene inspired a sense of loneliness.

It was a beautiful just the same. I wanted to reject it for some reason.

"Why does the sorcerer's path lead here, Sam?"

Sam responded, his eyes on the surroundings.

"Your entire life has culminated in this moment. Would you spoil it with why's?"

And to think I had been heading elsewhere.

"My entire life lead to this spot." I was frustrated, as well as a little ashamed at my tone.

"Can you offer any argument to the contrary?"

And I couldn't.

"I told you that what I do is aimed at the body, not the mind. Questions are the minds domain. The body asks none. If your ex-girlfriend had been watching the street, rather than the street light, she would not have been hit by the truck. The debate going on at the moment is between your body and mind. When I did my trick the first time you jumped. It was unnecessary, but you came to no harm. Your mind and expectation were driving you the second time. If you had trusted your body you would not have wound up with egg on your face."

And my entire life lead to this spot.

"But surely there is more to it than that. You talked about the spiritual as well." I was surprised by my own appeal.

"I have done my best to bring you to this point. Certainly, there is a great deal more than that at work. You are sitting here torn by countless thoughts and desires. If this was all there was to life, it would be a content, peaceful existence."

Sam turned from the surroundings and caught my eye.

"Your body and mind are not one. Your body is here, though your mind is not."

His last comment made me look away.

"The path of a sorcerer is always realized through the present. You decided earlier to accept my ticket. I offer you this. It is possible to act without thinking. It is possible to have knowledge without words."

I was about to argue that acting without thinking was stupid when I remembered perfection. I could recall numerous times playing sports where all thought vanished and something else took over. It was during those moments that I was at my absolute best. The satisfaction reacting to a spike playing beach volleyball and making a perfect return, or finding the top corner of the net in a hockey game, was amazing.

The clarity of my memory in regards to those moments was shocking in itself. Sam was looking at me calmly. I commented on my experiences.

"As people we put all our emphasis on the mind. Sorcerers have come to the conclusion that the mind is a foreign installation. We have a constant dialogue with ourselves at all times. It is a trap that captures all our attention, and it is that very attention which is the focus of sorcery."

He looked away once again.

"The universe offers all living creatures the knowledge required for survival. Back in the beginning it was simple. Bad berry, do not eat that! Danger, snake! Each and every one of us is omniscient in a limited sense. Your fellow man has rejected that knowledge in order to claim it for themselves."

The stark surroundings complemented the mood.

"Why would we reject that knowledge, Sam?"

"People rejected it in order to do as they please. Unfortunately our very survival is at stake. Anybody can open themselves to that knowledge simply by asking—by saying a simple prayer. When my own teacher initiated me to that knowledge the universe began issuing commands. I was told what to do, but I did not want to be a slave. I looked at the results of doing what it was told, and realized that it was beneficial. I also came to the realization that to do what I was told was a choice of its own. I had the freedom to refuse. Oddly enough, upon making the choice to do as I was told, I came to the stunning realization that I was the one issuing those commands. The true tragedy of humanity is that it is not listening to its own voice."

Sam paused for a moment and looked me over carefully.

"Stop thinking for a moment and turn your attention to your body. How do you feel?"

I did as he asked. One thing was certain. I was a little on edge. I had absolutely no idea what Sam was going to do or say next. I noticed something else as well. I was vibrating with a strange current. I looked around and realized that even in the faint light I could see everything with profound clarity.

It was at that very moment that a baying call sounded, followed by a series of staccato yips. It reflected the stark white surroundings, the sadness inherent in Sam's comment about not listening to one's own voice, and my own loss as well. I identified with it immediately. I was again beset by my emotions, though this time it was far more pronounced.

Sam cursed under his breath and rose from his seat. I was too haunted to respond immediately. Sam gripped my arm firmly and told me that we had to return to the cabin. I followed where I was led.

I do not know how long we walked before I surfaced. Though I could see the path, the trees, and my companion, my mood remained heavy upon me.

"What was that, Sam? Why did we have to leave?"

"I told you that all creatures have a connection with the spirit. As I said, we are all an intrinsic part of the environment itself. That was a coyote, the holy clown of existence."

"We are not in any danger are we?"

"Well I am not, though you certainly are."

I could not understand his agitation. His sigh would be loud in no other local than the one in which we were located at the moment.

"Let me ask you a serious question, Al. Do you think you are going to make it?"

My feeling of profound sadness grew. I felt lost and forlorn. I could find no words to express my emotional state. I remained silent, horrified that I might start crying.

"My question is a crude translation of that the trickster posed. I tried to prepare you to the best of my ability. Unfortunately, you are not a sorcerer. The coyote's call carries a great deal of weight."

He was right. I was not a sorcerer—perhaps that was the problem. When I left town I was heading for the answers that solitude would provide. That solitude had never arrived. I did not want to be with Sam at that moment. I was plagued by thoughts of Sara.

Sam said nothing else on the way home.

The World of Appearances

I followed Sam into the cabin without thinking, dwelling on not but my loss. The cabin was as dark as my mood. Sam lit a lamp. I took off my coat and boots and went right to the couch without saying anything. Sam took his seat and cleared his throat. I could barely meet his gaze.

"It was unfortunate, our path crossing that of the coyote's. What you need to do at the moment is shake the encounter off. I want you to spend the next few minutes looking at the fire. The flames will help."

I did not like how I was feeling so I took his advice. Sam took the protective grate from the hearth exposing the fire. He then went about lighting his host of candles.

I gazed at the flames for quite some time. I found myself lost to their dance. My surrounding shrank until there was nothing left but the fire, not even my oppressive mood. I was brought out of it when Sam cleared his throat once again.

To be honest I have no idea how long I spent with the flames.

"Better?" Sam asked

To be honest I was. I told him so.

"Fire consumes. Every other form of life does as well. What you need to understand is that the coyote is not a malicious creature. The question it posed was valid. Before you retire for the evening take some time and think on its message."

For the life of me I still did not know why he placed such relevance on the call of the coyote, but I had to admit that it had affected me in some way. I nodded in agreement.

"It is time to discuss the most important aspect of my trick this afternoon. As with the lesson in expectation, it was a lesson in life itself. When you saw me perform my trick, the egg disappeared."

There had been no mystery the second time.

"It did look that way. You have already told me it was sleight of hand." I still failed to see how he could call it sorcery. I had gone over the first example a few times.

I had some theories about how he did it, though I was not about to ask for another demonstration.

"Sorcery is the study and manipulation of awareness. My trick was an example of what sorcerers refer to as the 'World of Appearances.' It is the place where people live and die. The mystery was born of my sleight of hand. What I am attempting to bring to light is that you can perceive one thing while something completely different is going on. It is thus with life. One is only ever aware of a small part of it. A sorcerer invests in the hidden world that is outside one's personal 'World of Appearances.'"

"You are telling me that life is like your trick?"

"Absolutely. Life happens right before our eyes, with the vast majority of us none the wiser. Expectation is what holds the 'World of Appearances' in place. We are surrounded by the anarchy of existence at all times. What a healthy individual does is organize ones surroundings into a manageable whole. The environment itself is fluid, much like a dream. It is our waking consciousness which lends the dream stability. That stability is a function of what sorcerers refer to as the right side, or the 'Tonal.' It also gives rise to the 'World of appearances.' Most people will live and die in the known, without the slightest notion that the world they inhabit is their own construct, and simply a small part of something vast and incomprehensible."

"When you refer to the right side what are you referring to?" I asked.

"The universe is composed of two completely contradictory currents of energy that are both, at the same time, nevertheless true. The spirit can be described as the motion or change wrought through the interaction of those two currents of energy." He reached over and slapped my thigh with his left hand to emphasize his point.

Sam looked me over carefully and obviously came to some decision I was not privy too. When the coyote called I had fallen into a state of despair. The fire had helped enormously. I felt much better.

"I am simply speaking metaphorically, but think of the right and left sides like this. There is an 'I,' which represents the right side, and there is a 'We,' which represents the left side. 'We' includes you along with everyone else. The 'I' is what gives rise to the World of Appearances. It is important to realize that the two currents of energy are not polar opposites because your 'I' is included in the 'We.'"

Sam fell silent and allowed me time to process the information. I asked for clarification. Sam's response was a question of his own.

"How many different colors are there in the universe, Al?"

"I have no idea, Sam. There are a lot of them."

Sam nodded gravely, and then his posture and mannerisms changed completely. He rose to his feet and hiked his pants up looking at me with an imperious expression. When he spoke his voice was high and nasal.

"My favorite color! You want to get real!? Do you really want to go there? You want to get down to brass tacks and talk about something truly relevant!?!"

Sam's posture changed once again and he sat down with a vapid smile, which I returned a little sheepishly.

"My favorite color." Sam snorted derisively. "Sorcerers refer to the left and right side due to the fact that life is subjective by nature. Ultimately we are all participants in the universal consciousness. Ownership does not exist to the left, and thus my dislike of salesmen. The right side serves both to unite us as living expressions of humanity, as well as separating us from other forms of life. The process of life also serves to identify what is mine, and what is yours. 'Mine' and 'Yours' manifest due to the World of Appearances. That subjective reality holds true for the duration of one's life. Ultimately we are all one consciousness. Everything in the universe is already present. The universe is striving for self-awareness. It is asking the question, 'Who does this belong too?' Your unique spirit is the result of those two currents interacting with one another. Your own spirit is what gives rise to your personal 'World of Appearances.'"

Once again I wound up with the same issue. When I thought about the spirit, I always thought of something separate and apart. Sam was not so inclined. When I asked Sam about it his response was rather simple.

"That is, in a sense, what I want to discuss. In your own personal 'World of Appearances,' the spirit and your physical existence are two separate things. For a sorcerer there is no such distinction. We tend to refer to the natural, the unnatural, and the supernatural. A bird builds a nest, a man builds a bomb. It is all very natural."

At that moment I was still struggling with the concept of the left and the right sides. Sam continued.

"My favorite color is an excellent example of the right side. It is always so very important. To the left is the environment. It is a big environment, which includes many people, but as a manifestation of the Tonal, I am but one person. As I have said, the concept of left and right is subjective by nature. In regards to my own being, I am over fifty years old, and have had countless experiences. To the right of my being is my voice, which is in essence a purified, or more rarified expression, of my own experience."

Sam appeared a little melancholy, which surprised me.

"The unfortunate thing about it is that the further to the right one gets, the more personal and important things become. It is one's own favorite color, of course. Self-importance is the bane of sorcerers."

"You're saying that it is what is important to one individual."

Sam nodded with a smile.

"Ultimately opinions are of relevance only those who hold them. If I shared my favorite color with you and you thought to yourself... 'He's right! That is a brilliant color!?' Then it is simply your favorite color as well. The social entity wants us to believe that our opinions rule the world. My favorite color." Sam snorted once again. "In essence what is most beneficial is other people holding opinions that are different than our own. The result is that your own opinion is worth more, in contrast to the opinions of others. It is a point lost on most. The strange thing is that the universe covets those opinions, relevant or not. The universe is conscious and aware, as is the planet itself. Each and every one of us contribute to that consciousness. We are all children of this beautiful planet. That being the case, an individual generally serves something above or below as well. The universe does not play favorites. We all contribute. To the right you have the concept of possessions and ownership. Can one truly claim a color as one's own?"

I thought about life in the eighties and the fad of florescent colors. When I commented on it Sam responded with a simple assertion.

"Those colors where an integral part of the consciousness of that decade. They come and go, in the same manner that one's individual tastes grow and evolve over time. To the left you have the fact that the potential of florescent colors have always existed, and to the right you have their realization during the eighties."

I was still wrestling with the concept of left and right sides.

Sam caught my gaze and held it. "The left side comes first—the goal is the right side. To the left is desire, or the creative impulse. You do not go out for coffee with your friends and proclaim, 'I was inspired for like twenty minutes yesterday, it was fantastic.'" His impression of a dumb blond valley girl was bang on. "If you are inspired, you paint a painting, or perhaps you write a song. Creativity is one way to add to the mystery that lies outside the World of Appearances."

I was sat quietly for a moment as I considered what he had said.

"So I create my own reality. That is what you mean by the 'World of Appearances?'" I asked.

"It is created through your own likes and dislikes. If there are a thousand people in a movie theater, no two individuals watch the same show. One person will experience sadness when a puppy in the show resembles one he had as a child. That puppy has no meaning to the aspiring actor three seats over who avidly watches the talent of other actors who have achieved success. The human race as a whole has its very own 'World of Appearances,' to which one can also contribute to through the creative process. God created man in his own image, of course. Sorcerers are simply conscious of their own subjective reality."

I looked around the cabin a little suspiciously. My argument was that Sam had put a lot more effort into creating the environment than I had.

"I guess I still have no real idea what sorcery is." The business card remained a mystery.

"Sorcery is a methodology. It is an abstract science. Light works as a wave sometimes, and a particle at other times. That is a scientific fact. If you test for a wave you verify a wave as the result. If you test for a particle that is what you will find. What scientists seem unable to comprehend is that if awareness were not a form of energy in its own right, why would the manner in which you observe light change its behavior?"

I could offer no response.

"The behavior of light is yet another reflection of those two fundamental energetic currents. The universe functions in accordance with the interaction of both, and that simple pattern is reflected back and forth throughout existence. Every person in the movie theater is a human being. Each and every one of them has a unique spirit. They all watch the very same movie, and all of them experience a different show. The science of modern man is the linear expression, and as a result, the only truth a modern scientist seems to recognize is that linear expression. That expression relates to the mechanics of the universe. Light, radio waves, microwaves... every linear expression we can quantify moves in a straight line from point A to point B. It is the contention of the sorcerers that dark matter is awareness itself. The camel cannot see its own hump. The circular manifestation of energy throughout the universe is awareness itself."

I am afraid my furrowed brow conveyed more confusion than anything else.

"So sorcery is a science?"

"It is a science that encompasses both currents, which is something sadly lacking from modern man's perspective. Those two currents of energy cannot inhabit the same space, due to the fact that they are contradictory. The combination of the two results in life itself."

I considered what he had said about the 'World of Appearances.' How I created a world was beyond me, but he seemed to think that I had.

"Can you give me an example of the science of awareness?"

Sam fell silent for a moment as he considered.

"Do you believe you have a soul?"

"I do not know." I responded quicker than I would have liked.

"The bible describes what is called the mark of the beast." I nodded in agreement. Some of the metal I enjoyed made reference to it. "That is an example of the science of awareness. Sorcerers do not prescribe to that belief specifically, but in order for a malicious person or being to do harm to ones 'soul,' it must offer a warning first."

Sam looked down with a smile.

"You asked for an example of the science of awareness. Everything in existence must warn you first before it can be considered a threat. It is not specific to religion. A poisonous frog must advertise the danger it represents with its brightly colored skin. That is of benefit to both the frog and the predator. It is a win-win situation. A rattlesnake must warn of its presence. That is a fundamental concept of the science of awareness. An individual may still die, but in the end life is just a ride anyway."

I was struggling to comprehend what he was saying. For the first time in my life I experienced a strange divide in my being. One part of me rejected what he was saying out of hand. The other part of me? I believe it sighed in relief.

With Sam's next glance that sigh was gone. He looked at me with a level gaze, and for some reason his eyes were dark as night.

"If one does not truly understand something, it does not matter. It cannot be of benefit or of harm. People do still die. Believe it or not, each and every one of us is important to the universe at large, and we all grow and develop at different rates, so lack of understanding is not a crime. Ignoring a warning that you comprehend, on the other hand, can be very dangerous. Death is an inherent part of life, and not something to be feared. Simple denial, on the other hand, can cause a great deal of harm, and is something to be feared. It is why humanity rejected the knowledge provided... so that it can do as it pleases."

I considered what Sam had said about the true tragedy of the human condition being that we do not listen to our own voice. At that moment I was once again looking at the fire. My thoughts were of dinner with Sara's parents.

Sam continued.

"So by granting you the grace that if you do not understand, you are safe, the natural response is to deny everything. Then you can behave any way you wish with impunity. Humanity tends to glorify intelligence as some holy grail. The wisest people you will ever meet need not be intelligent. They are those who observe openly, accept both themselves and what they see, and heed the warnings within their scope of understanding."

And for some strange reason, at that moment, I realized fear. I also realized that the thing that was to be feared was not the creature before me, it was myself.

"The most valuable quality one can cultivate is self-acceptance. People are motivated by the spirit, not reason. Those who cannot face the consequences of their own acts, or deny the reality around themselves, often slip into delusion or mental illness."

Sam's talk of mental illness brought forth a memory of someone I had not thought of in a long time. I had a friend in my youth who wound up a diagnosed schizophrenic.

His behavior had started out strange, and then turned utterly bizarre. I came to an understanding about what Sam was saying about motivation. There was no doubt in my mind that he had been motivated by something, though what that was remained a mystery. The doctors had called it a state of paranoid delusion. I had accepted it as an illness. After listening to Sam I had to wonder what caused it. As far as I knew he was still in an institution. I had not seen him in years, but I knew from my time with him that he probably could not have survived outside of one.

"Generally illness stems from experiences that one cannot deal with consciously. What I want you to understand is that the physical body is the most sensitive instrument of all." Sam continued. "We are connected to the spiritual through our very physicality, and in regards to that one has their own, unique spirit. Scientists can measure a great deal with their clumsy instruments. They cannot catalogue memories or measure emotions. Our emotional state and our memories are part our personal awareness. They exist despite a scientific inability to weigh them."

I considered what Sam had said about everybody seeing a different show in a movie theater. From what Sam had said over the course of the day, I gathered that I could see my own spirit by looking in the mirror. It was a reflection we would discuss in detail throughout our association. I was a still a little confused.

I simply could not avoid the persuasion to draw a line between physicality and spirituality. Perhaps I was being defensive. I was also curious about the science of awareness. I decided to ask Sam about the relevance of numbers. His response was to take the carving of the crow off the mantle and place it between us.

He took in the crow with a gesture.

"The crows have an intricate language which deals with the science of awareness."

The crow was motionless on the table, its right eye regarding me impassively. My curiosity gave way to a sense of strange sense of apprehension.

"It is entirely possible that you wound up on my doorstep because a crow sent you to me. It would have said something like this, 'Caw caw caw caw caw caw.... Caw!"

His impression of a crow call gave me goose-bumps. Had I not been in his presence I would never have been able to tell his imitation from the real thing.

I simply sat there staring at him, wondering if he had lost his mind. I had no idea what this could possibly have to do with numbers.

"I do not understand."

"When you wound up on my doorstep you were what the crows would refer to as a six. Once again, you might recognize the number from the music you listen too. I probably understand a great deal more than the artists you listen too. I know far less than the crows themselves. The call I just gave you was 6-to-7. That is what is occurring between you and me."

"What do you mean I was a six?"

"Your world had lost its foundation. You were drinking, you had broken up with your girlfriend, and you had fallen to pieces. What you saw in your friends and family was disturbing you. In a very basic sense, that is what the crows refer to as a six. Five represents the individual, discipline or sobriety. Six is the dissolution of the individual into separate component parts and pieces. Seven represents the reconciliation of the individual as part of the whole. That, in essence, is what I am doing with you."

I was stunned. My mind was once again going through instances of numbers in the songs I had listened too. There were more than a few. I was also a little uneasy about what he said about being put back together. He had been a stranger when a knocked on his door.

A very strange, stranger.

"The crows are an excellent example of the world of appearances. For you they are noisy birds overhead. As for myself I see a people with a simple though intricate language. My world and yours are one in the same, though our perception of that very world is completely different."

I looked up to see Sam studying me.

"You accepted my proposal to write you a new ticket. While you are here I am not dealing with the identity you assume back at home. I called you Al for a reason. When you leave you are free to call yourself whatever you wish."

Apparently as a seven, though at that moment the meaning remained elusive.

"The language of the crows is a beautiful mixture of function and form, simplicity and complexity. They have a huge impact in the affairs of the world. You asked for a concrete example of the World of Appearances. The crows have been present throughout your entire life."

His expression was utterly serious.

"As I have said, nothing has to change. You can still attempt to verify what I am saying by observing the crows for yourself. What might change is your understanding of what occurs around you. That is why my sleight of hand is a beautiful example of the precepts of sorcery. It is important to understand that everyone exists in their own, unique World of Appearances. We are also part of the mystery in regards to the universe at large. One persons 'World' is another person's mystery."

I had asked for an example and he had given me one. Once again I felt that odd sense of division. It felt like part of me was squirming. It was desperately attempting to deny what Sam was saying. The other part of me calm, going over Sam's magic trick and what he had said over the course of the day—observing how it all fit together.

"In the grand scheme of things the universe is a chaotic affair, Al." I looked up to see Sam observing me carefully. "The spirit lends purpose to existence. It can be beautiful or it can be terrible. The crows have a purpose of their own."

Throughout the entire day I had been struggling to realize the lesson of Sam's sleight of hand. With the example of the crows it was clear. Two people can perceive the same reality very differently. I came to another realization as well. It really did not matter if Sam was correct or not. For Sam, crows were a people with a language of their own.

The 'World of Appearances.'

"What must be understood is that throughout life one will encounter many conflicting purposes. You and I share our humanity, though your spirit is very different from my own. Individual purposes co-operate, clash, and mix in every way conceivable. Inevitably one will wind up with egg on ones face. You wind up in awkward situations that were not of your choosing. You crash your vehicle and wind up stuck in some old man's cabin. And we always tell ourselves—it was just a mistake. We have a habit of viewing life as a series of mistakes, rather than actually living it.

Touché.

"There is no cure for life, Al."

At that statement I burst out laughing. It allowed me to dislodge the weight of the conversation. I looked up to see Sam with a puzzled expression on his face. I experienced a small moment of victory. This time I had caught him off guard.

"What is so funny?" He wanted to know.

"Oh you just reminded me of a commercial I heard awhile back that struck me as odd. What you are saying really sums it up."

"Do tell."

"It was a commercial for an insurance company. The line was, 'Unfortunately, life happens.'"

Sam broke out laughing as well, his eyes glittering.

"Yes it does, and therein the beauty."

Sam stretched and broke into a yawn.

"Well, Al, it is getting late. I will leave you to with a final thought before turning in. It is entirely possible that you may enjoy your stay here. I am certain that you will be tempted to look at your accident as one of life's mistakes, despite the sorcerer's perspective."

He lowered his arms with a sigh and looked up. His eyes aglow in the candlelight.

"It was, however, my expectation that you would wind up here. You are a participant in my own 'World of Appearances.'"

I could not accept his assertion as the truth. We had never met, and he could not possibly have known that I was on my way to my friend's cabin.

"That isn't possible, Sam."

"Oh, it is most certainly possible. We all court the world we inhabit. My world happens to be outside that of society. Even without understanding, you saw the face of society, and you fled."

If a smile can be threatening and inviting at the same time, his was.

"Welcome to my world."

The Investment

When I woke I could hear that Sam was once again up before me. As I lay in bed I considered my situation. I wondered briefly if this was where I wanted to be. I was reminded of the coyote call. After that call I had been certain of my desire to be somewhere else. On the other hand, Sam had apparently summoned me.

And there I was.

I enjoyed Sam's company, however unsettling it might be. I still did not ever see myself carrying around a business card that read 'Sorcerer.'

Sam was busy in the kitchen when I emerged from the room, so I took a seat at the table. He turned to greet me, and wished me a good morning. He said nothing more until breakfast was ready.

"I believe it is time to talk about currency." Sam placed my plate in front of me and took his seat.

I actually thought he was going to ask me for money. I did not know if it was for my stay with him, or for his services as a sorcerer. Regardless, I was more than a little disappointed.

Sam looked up and read me easily.

"Oh please, cease your concern." He scoffed. "I am not going to ask for a donation. What I wish to discuss with you is what I consider valuable. Your money is quite safe, I assure you."

I was both relieved and curious.

"What is of value to you, Sam?"

"The only thing of true value is ones awareness. That is true currency. There is more to it than that however, as one requires energy in order to be aware. That being said, what I experience throughout my life is all I will ever have."

At that comment I could not help but bring up the obvious.

"You have your cabin, Sam."

"You are quite correct. I do have my cabin. The only importance I place my cabin is that while I live, a great deal of my awareness will occur within these walls. I have chosen everything with a great deal of care."

He considered me for a moment and gave me a disapproving frown.

"Well most of it, anyway. You never know who is going to wind up knocking on your door."

He gave his head a shake and turned his attention back to his plate. I could do little but smile and follow suit.

I considered what he had said the night before. I could not accept the fact that he had anything to do with my arrival at said door. I decided to bring it up. I finished what I was eating and put my fork down.

"If you knew I was going to show up you should have chosen more carefully." My sarcasm did not elicit a response. He continued with his meal. I tried again. "I fail to see how you could have possibly known I was going to show up, Sam."

He kept his attention on the plate for his last few bites. Having finished, he wiped his mouth with a napkin and then looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"Since you fail to see it, you assume I am wrong?"

"I just do not see how that is possible."

"I have a question for you, Al. Where do you think Sara came from?"

I failed to see the relevance and grew a little irritated.

"Can we talk about something else, please?"

Sam's smile was a little malevolent. I expected no compassion from him, but the last thing I expected from him was to prove his point with Sara.

Sam would not be deterred.

"It is the best way of answering your question, I am afraid. In a sense, you could have expected Sara to show up in the very same manner that I that I expected you."

A rather sorry part of myself was wondering if the answer to that question could somehow bring her back. I pushed the thought away.

I was growing more irritable by the moment.

"I know where Sara came from, and both you and I know where we met. Unless you are going to explain, I would like to change the topic."

Sam shook his head. "I am afraid it is necessary. It was crucial to your winding up on my doorstep."

He continued despite my misgivings.

"As a human being one suffers a simple problem. The potential any individual has is deliberately hidden, and as a result, our conscious understanding of that potential is squandered. Our energy is wasted in self-absorption, which is encouraged, and at the same time we are urged to accept that everything is out of our hands. Responsibility is discouraged."

His speech meant very little to me. I still could not see how it was of any relevance in regards to Sara.

"Why is responsibility discouraged, Sam?"

"It is due to the fact that if you are not responsible, somebody else is. Any time a space in nature is vacant, something will inevitably fill it."

I had a friend at who had gotten raging drunk one night and fell in the parking lot of his apartment. He wound up taking pictures of where he slipped and sued his landlord. He was successful.

I failed to see why my friend's lack of self-control had to do with the landlord. The other thing I did not understand was who had benefited from the lawsuit, other than my irresponsible drunk of a friend. Once again, I failed to see the relevance in regards to my relationship with Sara.

"I understand that I am responsible for my own actions."

"Are you?" Sam raised his eyebrows. "When you first explained to me what happened in regards to your relationship you made it pretty clear that it was simply not meant to be. When I did not buy your sales pitch, you went running out the door."

The conversation was not getting any better. I remembered what I had told Sam the previous morning more clearly than I liked. I suppose I had been trying to convince myself.

I had loved the woman dearly. It could not have been my fault, could it?

"There is really nothing magical about it, Al. Not unless you consider the fact that you are here, with me, having this conversation. As we talk your heart is beating. You are breathing. You are pissed off and aware at the same time. That is the real magic."

I could do little but scoff.

"If it is not magical, and you really knew I was going to show up, I would really like to know how it is done."

"That is, in essence, the focus of sorcery." His eyes held mine. "It is the art of manipulating awareness. I call it an abstract science because that is what it is. It is abstract in the sense that I did not know who, specifically, would arrive. Someone in a situation similar to your own was bound to show up on my doorstep. In a focused medium we refer to awareness as attention. Let me ask you this. Why did you and Sara wind up having coffee together?"

"You already know that we were both at a show."

Sam shook his head. "The devil is in the details. Focus on yourself first. What brought about your being there and playing?"

I considered his question. I was still irritated, but I was also curious as to where this was heading.

"I had played at the coffee shop a few times."

"Did the songs you played just spontaneously come to you?"

I had to smile despite my irritation. His expression complemented the inane question.

"No, I practiced a lot at home before I played for the first time."

Sam beamed. "Of course, of course!"

"That is what I am attempting to bring to light. You invested your awareness in music—in playing your guitar. It was the attention you focused on your guitar that created the possibility of your meeting Sara. I want you to realize something crucial. Although the theory is abstract by nature, it is the absolute truth as well. If you had not invested your attention in your guitar, you and Sara would not have met."

There it was. First of all my argument was that I could very well have there to simply watch the show. I realized, however, that my interest in the performances stemmed from my own playing. I voiced my argument anyway.

"I could have just been there to watch." Even as I said it I recognized the fact that Sara had been interested in me because I was a musician.

"Those are always great arguments that never hold any weight. IFIDA's. The simple fact is that you were at the show to play. The result was that you met Sara. That is the point that I am trying to make."

"But...." I really could not refute his argument. My sorrow seemed to echo within me, and for the second time that day I was reminded of the call of the coyote.

Sam looked me over, gauging my reaction.

"Once again I am sorry. No puff of smoke, no dramatic music. A sorcerer, having realized that everything he experiences in his life is the direct result of what he has focused his attention on, cultivates the ability to harness and direct that very attention. This is done by halting expectation and focusing instead what sorcerers refer to as intent. In that manner one can shape and draw what one desires in life."

My meeting Sara required neither a puff of smoke nor dramatic music. That being said, his argument was as simple as it was hard to accept.

"I just wanted to play, Sam. My goal was not to meet a girl." I had to wonder if that was the truth and nothing but. "Sara was a poet as well, Sam. Are you certain that our meeting was not her work?"

He frowned and gave his head a scratch.

"Well of course. There are two people involved in any one relationship. That being said it is only ever one relationship. Your meeting Sara was the result of a mutual interest in art. Your arrival here was the result of a deep dissatisfaction with those around you. Both are examples of agreement. That agreement led to you fleeing from home like the hounds of hell were after you. You arrived here, at my door, wet a bedraggled. My part in our meeting is that my attention is invested outside that of societies. The social 'World of Appearances' has no tie with my own."

I thought about my first conversation with Sara. It hurt, but I faced it anyway.

"And you are telling me what, Sam? You are suggesting that both my relationship with Sara and my being here are a result of an agreement?"

He flashed a bright smile.

"Yes, that is exactly what I am saying."

Despite my interest in our conversation, I had once again sunk into a state of despair. For the most part my talks with Sam had distracted me from my loss. It was why I was disagreeable when he brought her up. Despite my emotional state I had to ask.

"If Sara and I were brought together through a mutual appreciation of art, then why would I screw things up?" I realized at that moment that if I was not responsible for what happened in my prior relationships, I could not claim responsibility for those that followed. I found that unacceptable.

I also wanted answers.

"You told me your group of friends had been close for a very long time. That was the major part of your established identity—you and your friends." He used the past tense for some reason. "You also said that you for some reason you avoided playing your guitar for them. Your music was something you kept separate. Your relationship with Sara was part of a foreign agreement. When both your friends and your girlfriends parents agreed that she was too good for you, that agreement was in conflict with your established identity. In the end you wound up agreeing with your friends and her parents, much to your detriment. Your established identity was the victor. It is the reason I have decided to call you 'Al.'"

Sam fell silent for a moment before continuing.

"In everyday existence all ones energy is spent in defense of ones concept of self. Our identity is, for the most part, forged through our interactions with others, so those around us become a large part of who we are. We are encouraged to defend ourselves, and in doing so we validate the social mechanism. That is where the ego resides. The result is that energy is spent maintaining the social 'World of Appearances,' which is always a small world. One part of your world was your relationship and your music. The larger part of your identity had developed over the course of your life."

This time his eyes held compassion.

"I am afraid to say that in a sense, Sara was the enemy. Your established identity wound up winning."

His eyes met and held mine. For some reason his steady gaze held my emotions at bay.

"Did you play your guitar much through that period?"

I shook my head.

"That will wind up being an issue for you. Unfortunately your artistic side was tied to your relationship. I cannot assist in that regard. You must find the means to deal with that yourself."

He paused before continuing.

"A sorcerer has no self-interest, and therefore has nothing to defend. For the salesmen of society that very ego is the most important thing in the world. I have called you Al. I want to free up some energy within you so that your awareness will grow. All of your energy goes into defending the shackles of your established identity, which as I have said, most wear as adornments."

I took a few moments to consider what he was saying. There was something enticing about his talk about awareness. I liked the idea that I could draw something to me by focusing my attention.

"Think of it like this. It takes eight years of schooling to become a doctor. You become a doctor after investing your attention in your studies. An individual who studies hard, and devotes attention to their studies, will receive better grades. Better grades foster better job opportunities afterwards."

"Well that is rather obvious, Sam."

"You would think so, yes. Unfortunately most people think that it is the PHD that provides the job. People think that it is the knowledge learned that is important. A sorcerer knows that it is the quality of attention applied to ones studies that provides the opportunity for employment. The sorcerer devotes his attention as an investment, knowing it is the most valuable thing he has."

I considered all the Sunday mornings that I had spent with my guitar in hand and had to turn over the possibility that Sara had appeared in my life because of my love of music.

"Consider this as a sorcerer would. When you get up in the morning and prepare for the day, you shower, brush your teeth, shave, style your hair, and in the end you are presentable. You have asked me on a few occasions why I draw no line between the physical and the spiritual. As a sorcerer, I believe that it is the attention that one devotes towards getting ready for the day, and the quality of attention applied, that others see when one goes out. Of course that requires brushing your teeth and combing your hair. You are puzzled by my insistence in drawing no line between physicality and spirituality. In regards to getting ready to face the day, the attention you invest getting ready is in no way separate from your appearance itself. One thing is not separate from the other."

"You are telling me that what I experience in life is due to what I place my attention on? I am correct?"

"Yes, it is that simple. The experience of one moment leads to the experience of the next. For the most part people focus their attention on a mirror. It is the worst place for one's attention. The eyes are meant to observe your surroundings, and what benefits from the presence of a mirror is something else entirely. Sorcery is a dangerous path. There are many creatures who are attracted to a focused awareness. It is valuable, and those that are attracted to it might not have ones best interest at heart. A sorcerer invests his awareness with this in mind."

For the first time since I had arrived at his door I had a glimmer of understanding.

"If two boys are walking down the street, and a lady with a dog is approaching, the boy who gets bitten is inevitably the one who is afraid of the animal. All the dog is doing is agreeing with him. You're afraid! Your right, be afraid! The dog simply validates that fear."

His expression took on a touch of sadness.

"The right side, or the 'Tonal,' as described by a sorcerer, revolves around the concept of agreement. The unfortunate thing is that it does not help the boy who gets bitten. Unless the boy is a warrior, he will only realize that his fear was valid in the first place. Agreement is a powerful force."

And Sam had somehow summoned me.

He looked at me with a smile that chased the sorrow away. "Our potential exceeds that which you can imagine. It is part of the reason that responsibility is discouraged. We are kept unaware of our potential."

"What keeps us unaware?"

Sam hesitated for a moment, and then deflected my question.

"As I said, if one is not responsible for one's actions, someone else is. A religious person talks of the soul as if it is ones most valuable possession. A religious person then inspires fear of its loss. The only way one can ever lose oneself is by giving oneself away. That is where the issue of responsibility comes in."

I waited for specifics, though none were forthcoming.

"Why are you telling me, Sam?"

"Well you can rest assured that it is not for money. You can, however, consider yourself an investment."

For some reason that comment lifted my mood. Maybe I was worth more than I thought.

After our talk I helped Sam clean up and he asked me if I would mind going out to get some wood for the fire. I needed a break and some time to think. The physical activity of chopping wood would do me good as well.

I donned my coat and boots and followed Sam outside to where the woodshed was located. He handed me the axe, then returned to the cabin. To be honest I was glad for the distraction. As I worked I considered what he had said. If he was going to spend the next week with me, I would be the focus of his awareness. For some reason I felt flattered. With that in mind I had to ask myself.

What did I want to invest in?

3

The Nagual

The Flame of Conviction

The crisp winter morning was invigorating as I worked with the axe. Eventually I removed my jacket altogether, and the heat I generated through my exertion combined with the surrounding chill made the work was all the more pleasant. I thought about where I would have wound up if the animal had not crossed my path. I would have been alone with a ghost of a memory for company. I had to admit that my present situation was more productive than the alternative.

I also realized that I understood little about my host.

I thought about what Sam had said so far. He had discussed the spirit, and then pointed directly at me. During my time with him, Sam had insinuated on occasion that I did not truly know myself. Although I could not say I understood my host, I found that assertion hard to accept. He had only known me a few days. I had years of experience behind me.

Later I would come to realize that that was the point.

As the axe rose and fell I thought about everything he had said. His theory revolved around awareness. The work made me realize that I was not a philosopher myself. I was more at home with the axe. It was not that I found our talks unpleasant. I simply preferred action as opposed to thought.

His talk about crows was also intriguing. I found it difficult to accept that they had language all their own, let alone one that someone could understand. Even if what Sam was saying was true, I could not fathom the relevance in regards to my own situation.

He had said a great deal, and very little at the same time. What I failed to realize was that he meant what he said. He was not addressing my mind, he was having a conversation with my body.

Eventually my thought process quieted and it was simply me and the axe. I split a formidable pile stacked it on the pile of cut wood, bringing an armful with me to warm the cabin.

I was relaxed and ready to face my odd host.

After removing my coat and boots I joined Sam in the living room. I took my position on the couch. My body was languidly heavy from my work with the axe. I stretched and was silent for a moment before posing my question.

"So what, exactly, does a sorcerer believe, Sam?" My tone held a challenge.

Sam was quiet before responding.

"As little as possible."

I was disappointed by what I could only consider a dismissal. My initial confusion in Sam's presence had changed from skepticism to general interest during the time I had spent with him. His interest in animals had led me to believe that sorcery was some form of shamanism. I was caught off guard by both by his response and the way his tone mirrored my own.

"Surely you believe something." Why I was disappointed when I was looking for something to deny was beyond me.

"Well that is an inevitability, Al. I believe that the sun will rise tomorrow, as it did today." His voice now conveyed a sense of amusement, though the reason for it was beyond me. I suppose I thought he would have to defend his beliefs.

"You say that like you aren't sure."

"It is possible that the sun will not rise tomorrow. In that case, my belief is a gamble that I am willing to take. If it does not rise tomorrow, my error will be of little consequence."

"Have I offended you in some way with my question, Sam?"

"You have not offended me. It was a question that was bound to come up, although the topic is one I find distasteful. The other day we discussed the issue of unconscious expectation. For a sorcerer, awareness and attention are fundamental. Belief can be thought of as unconscious attention."

"Why do you find the topic unpleasant?"

"It takes energy to be aware. In the end it is a reciprocal relationship. That which holds ones attention provides energy to the observer and receives energy by being observed. It is the quality of attention that is crucial. In that sense nothing is truly given or taken from the world. What occurs can be considered an energetic redistribution. What an individual believes in is alive in its own right, as it constantly receives energy from the believer in question. Our beliefs are generally not part of this place," he took in the surroundings with a wave, "and I take no more than I give. I have brought up the concept of the shackles of identity. Removing them is no easy task. I really have no wish to involve myself with any other," he paused for a moment wrinkling his nose, "deities."

I really did not think I entertained such notions. Sam observed me quietly and then responded to my unspoken thought.

"When I call belief unconscious attention, I mean just that. As people we go through life filled with presumptions about the world that we are not even consciously aware of. I also called you the physical manifestation of the spirit. A cats spirit looks just like a cat. My spirit is that of a human being. Your spirit has its own relationships, whether you are aware of them or not. That being said, your relationships are something I would like to avoid if possible."

Sam was obviously taking a great deal of care in what he was saying. I would not have gone so far as to call him nervous, simply careful.

"We are a mystery unto ourselves, Al. I would bring you closer to that very mystery. It does not mean I will intrude upon it. There is a reason for the right side of existence, after all."

I was more than a little confused, though I had no doubt he was serious. Silence fell between us for a time, which yielded to a different response, though no less profound.

"It is simply the manner in which you asked your question that causes difficulties. In sorcery we have a completely different term, though it is of the same local. A sorcerer holds a state of constant vigil. It is referred to as the flame of conviction."

"What is that, Sam?" I had the distinct impression that something had occurred of which I was unaware. It was as if a conversation had taken place that I was not privy too. The odd thing was that despite my confusion, it was something that I did not want to question.

"First of all I want you to understand that life is, in essence, a solitary affair. I have told you that we all have a connection with the spirit. It is unique for all. We have also discussed the 'World of Appearances.' That world can operate on a personal level or in regards to a group."

He paused for a moment and then gestured to a work of art on the wall beside him. "Consider the painting for a moment."

The painting that he was referring to was rather strange. I had spent some time looking at it when not engaged with Sam. The painting always left me a little disorientated. It was a picture of a lake, either very early or very late in the day, as the sun was low on the horizon. There were two people standing, a ways apart, by the water's edge. The perspective was behind the two individuals. Sunlight glittered off the water in sparkling trails, approaching both figures. The picture itself was lovely, but I could not shake the sense if disassociation it inspired in me.

That feeling was the very thing that Sam questioned.

"How does that painting make you feel, Al?"

"Well it is very good but...."

I still could not put my finger on what bothered me.

"I painted that a number of years back. It is called 'For Your Eyes Only.' I painted it to illustrate a simple fact of life. What you see there is not possible. When you stand at the edge of a lake and see the light reflecting off the water, it is simply your perspective. You see that reflected light with your own eyes. Someone standing a few feet away will see something very similar, but it is, once again, for their eyes only. That painting is an impossibility. Everything one experiences in life is ultimately a matter of individual perspective. There are never two trails of light."

I considered the picture once again with that in mind. It was an unnatural perspective in a completely natural scene.

"Ones awareness is an individual affair." Sam continued. "Due to this, answers have a tendency to cause more problems than they solve. That is the reason that sorcery is an abstract science, much like the painting. I can attempt to describe this," he once again took in the surroundings with a broad gesture, "but ultimately you must see it for yourself."

I looked once again at the painting. He was very talented.

"Well then paint me a picture, Sam."

"First of all you must understand that the sorcerer's journey is the journey home. It is a goal that cannot be accomplished. One can only make the attempt."

"What is the point then, Sam?"

"People are far too fixated on the illusion of victory." He smiled. "The value is in the attempt, be it a success or a failure."

"Why can't you get home?" I really did not know what he was referring to, but I had to ask anyway.

"It has to do with the nature of existence. We discussed the unconscious and that it has no filter. In a sense the same applies to life. One cannot say no. We are human, for instance, whether we like it or not. There is no escaping that reality."

Personally I did not think it a bad thing to be at all.

"This holds true even in the case of a suicide." Sam continued. "The trigger must be pulled. Though the act seems like the greatest of rejections, when the trigger is pulled, the act is not but a validation of pain of existence."

I thought about his statement for a moment. I had the utmost admiration for a number of artists who wound up taking their own lives. I had always considered those deaths a loss, perhaps for selfish reasons. His perspective put their lives in a new light.

"The right side of existence depends upon agreement. We are all creatures struggling to die. Every spirit is unique, and death is the most profound moment of one's life. Death is part of life. The question is ultimately how one approaches death. For some the fight is longer than others."

I missed the point. I was actually offended.

"I am not struggling to die, Sam. I could accomplish that rather easily if I truly wanted to."

"For some it is not as easy as it might appear to be. You are missing the point that life is an agreement, and that death is part and parcel of that very agreement. As I have said, one cannot say no. Pulling the trigger, though violent, is simple. Life is the greatest struggle of all, and there is both purity and wisdom in the elderly. They have simply chosen a different death."

"You make it sound as if it is a choice."

"It is." Silence fell between us for a time. For the life of me I could not follow the logic of his argument. That would take time.

"Many people die long before they reach the end of their lives. Life is difficult. The very nature of life separates one from that which came before. In order to return home, one would have to reject their own life. That, in the end, is an impossibility."

I could only wonder where home was.

"When you leave here, where will you go? You cannot return to your relationship, you do not have an apartment, and even if we sat here silently for the next five days you would not be the person you were before you arrived. The average individual spends an enormous amount of time justifying their behaviors. What most fail to realize is that life is an agreement. That being the case, the changes that life engenders are part of that agreement."

Sam simply watched me silently for a moment. During our first real discussion Sam had laughed at me when I opened up to him. Even the memory of Sam's laughter made me angry. I had been telling him that the relationship was not meant to be, but that had just been a way of dealing with my loss.

My thoughts ground to a halt. I had been justifying my justification. My mind fell silent at the realization.

When I looked back at Sam he was smiling broadly.

"I am assuming you understand what I am saying. We have to be right. Two contradictory thoughts in one's mind are described by psychologists as cognitive dissonance. That dissonance must inevitably be resolved. Thus we have the problem with existence. The universe is made of two completely contradictory statements that are both nevertheless true. People do mental somersaults throughout the day to resolve contradictions at any cost."

I felt a little like I had been set up. I would realize long after the fact that my feeling was completely correct.

"Why do we do that, Sam?" My voice held an appeal.

"It has to do with the nature of the mind. 'To err is human.'" He quoted. "Even that is a justification, though clothed in the form of acceptance. Try being wrong for a while, it is actually closer to the reality. The bible talks of original sin. I really do not think it was all that original, due to the fact that god was here first." Sam gave me a wicked grin. "Much like our inability to say no, the mind is completely incapable of being wrong."

Sam paused for a moment.

"Let me put it this way. It does not matter if you are a saint or a sinner, a devil or an angel, you have to believe in what you are doing. If one does not, they are completely ineffective."

I thought about my question in regards to his own belief. "You said that a sorcerer believes in as little as possible."

I received the same wicked grin. "Yes I did, didn't I? Spend some time when you return home doing it wrong. You will see your mind unravel completely."

Sam laughed under his breath, while I once again did as he predicted and struggled mentally. I muttered a curse under my breath. I looked up at the painting once again because I was experiencing a disorientation similar to that which the painting inspired.

I suppose that was an agreement of sorts. I found myself longing to be back outside with the axe.

"I told you that one can think whatever one wants. That is the beauty of the mind. Why would it ever be wrong?" He asked. "The mind flits from one thing to another, from boredom to desire, from channel to channel. I told you that a sorcerer is always present. It is a physical thing. My body asks no questions. We are only ever here now. Take a moment to consider your memories of the past. For the most part you will find them fond memories of a better time. The future is always bright as well. There are so many things you will accomplish—in the future, of course. This being said, the mind will do almost anything to avoid being present—in the moment. That is where the mind unravels."

I caught myself before I asked why. Sam's smile was mischievous. I was observing my own thoughts very suspiciously at that moment.

"That brings us to the topic that I wanted to discuss. I want to introduce you to the sorcerer's concept of the flame of conviction. In order to do that we must discuss the sorcerers mind. I would like to discuss the spirit of a cat."

"What does a cat have to do with it? I asked. My thoughts at the moment were having trouble gaining purchase, though his comment stirred a vague memory.

"In one sense human species is similar to that of felines. The human race is removed from the physical environment by its reliance on the mind. Physically however, a human being and a cat are very similar expressions. I told you that awareness is a reciprocal relationship. A cat returns what is taken by remaining rooted in the physical. Its attention is focused on the surrounding environment. I told you that awareness requires energy, and that energy is in turn directed by ones awareness. A cat both gives takes equally. The result is the embodiment of the number one."

He raised his eyebrows as he asked his question. "Where do you think that humanities borrowed energy winds up?"

I knew the answer that he wanted.

"The mind." It was a statement, not a question.

"Yes! I would say it goes towards the mirror as well, but ultimately it all goes to the mind anyway. And in order for the mind to rob us blind, it has to distract us with fond memories of the past, or visions of a brighter tomorrow." He smiled, far more animated than I at that moment. "In contrast to that mind, we must discuss the sorcerers mind. Like a cat, a sorcerer thinks through his environment. In this fashion he pays his debt. What is lost in the way of freedom is replaced with utter stability. A sorcerer's spirit is his body, his mind is his environment. A sorcerer changes his mind when he changes his shirt."

I had to admit that arguing with him was like arguing with a shirt. It was rather pointless. For some reason I found myself visualizing a woman in a nice dress.

"I mean that quite literally." He added.

He was watching me carefully. I am afraid I did not have the capacity to process his comment at that moment. The feeling of disorientation persisted. I did my best to focus on what he was saying.

"Once again, nothing has to change. When someone gets a new tattoo, or buys a new shirt, they are manipulating their physical environment. What does change is the intent with which one approaches their environment. For the sorcerer awareness is always the priority, along with the spirit in which that attention is applied."

His silence served to emphasize what was to come.

"A sorcerer does not doubt, for there is nothing to doubt. Your belief in an article of clothing is inconsequential. It exists in its own right. A sorcerers mind does not waver. He is neither right, nor wrong. He is."

He caught my eye and held it.

"Other people around you will always court disparaging beliefs. In the end one must hold their own. That is the flame that burns within. It is the flame of conviction."

I tried to think of something to say, but was experiencing difficulty formulating any form of a thought. When it was clear that I had nothing to add to the conversation, he looked around for a moment.

"I am afraid I have talked down the fire." He commented, as if slightly disgusted with himself. I turned and saw that it was, indeed, almost out.

"Let us go outside and invest some of our awareness in silence. Outside in the quiet of the world, we will find a certainty not contained in words."

I followed him outside after donning my coat and boots. The silence of the morning was complete, and held in it what I could only describe as an intimacy.

I wondered if that was the point.

The Foundation

Mid-day approached without a cloud in the sky. My mind was not a clear winter day however, and the sunlight that streamed through the windows offered little in the way of assistance. I felt listless and detached, wandering aimlessly around the cabin.

Sam had taken his leave of me, saying that he had to prepare for an outing later in the day. My response was noncommittal. I could not say what inspired the mood, and while left to my own devices I attempted to distract myself to the best of my ability.

When Sam re-entered the cabin he caught my attention and spent a few moments looking me over. He nodded silently and motioned for me to take a seat. I could not muster the attention necessary to be curious. I simply did as requested.

He cleared his throat before he began.

"When building a dwelling, one must start with the foundation. The walls and roof can then be put in place. Once the physical structure is completed, the inhabitants can furnish and decorate as they please."

I had to force myself to pay attention to what he was saying.

"I hope we are not building anything today, Sam. I am not really in the mood for anything strenuous at the moment."

Sam offered an understanding smile.

"It must be pointed out that nobody will ever see the foundation. That being said, if there is a problem with the foundation the building will not last long. The same can be said about the walls and the roof. If they are not sound, it matters little what the furnishings inside are like."

I looked around his cabin. I was not a carpenter, but a great deal of care had obviously been taken during its construction. I understand his point about a building. One of the places I had rented had been of shoddy construction. It allowed moisture in from outside, and the result was a problem with mold.

I had been forced to leave the residence after the first month.

"I have stayed in a few places like that, Sam."

Sam seemed pleased that I had contributed to the conversation. I considered what he had said about awareness and attention.

"What you see when you enter a house is what is inside though." I commented

"You are quite correct." He smiled in approval.

"I thought you said the focus of sorcery was awareness." His approval encouraged me to make an effort. "Where does the foundation come into play?"

"Awareness requires an energetic foundation in order to function. Then one can admire the furnishings. In much the way a student's quality of attention contributes to the student's career, the energetic foundation contributes to the quality of awareness."

My clouded mind was making me rather irritable. Although my participation seemed important to him, I once again found my attention wandering. I knew he had a point to make, but I could not make the effort to figure it out for myself.

"The universe, by nature, has an energetic foundation. That being the case, it is fundamental for life as well." He posed a question. "Do you know what a calorie is?"

My mood had apparently effected my appetite as well. Although it was well past noon, I was not hungry. I can honestly say that I had never been overly concerned about my weight, but I offered what I knew.

"It has something to do with how fattening a meal is."

"Yes, it does." Sam nodded in agreement. "What a calorie refers to scientifically, is the energy needed to raise the temperature of one gram of water by one degree. It is a unit of heat energy."

I really had absolutely no idea where he was going with this.

"What on earth does that have to do with building a house?" I had to ask.

"Your place of residence is your body, Al. Physical energy is required in every aspect of one's existence. The energy that lends awareness is something quite different, though it needs a foundation as well. Today we shall spend some time dealing with energy."

If that was the topic for the day, I felt horribly unprepared.

"First of all I would like to bring to light how ones awareness is related to their physicality. If a woman had a passion for cheesecake, and ate a number of slices a day, it would have an effect on her physical appearance, would it not?"

Despite my mood, I had to laugh. "Yes, I suppose it would."

"We have established that calories are units of heat energy. In the case of the woman in question, she does not burn those calories off. Instead of being expended, they are stored as fat. Oddly enough, that will generally result in a lack of energy on her part. The point I am trying to make clear is that the attention she devotes to cheesecake contributes to her appearance. That, and the fact that unless energy is expended, it can be detrimental."

Sam paused for a moment and attempted to hold my attention.

"It is why the conviction of a sorcerer is referred to as a flame. It is a metaphor for both a constant and consistent expenditure of energy. It is found something within, and is always lit. Energy that is not expended is a waste. A sorcerer takes no more than necessary."

"Alright, Sam."

"Another individual may focus their attention on going to the gym. In this case his concern is how the fairer sex looks at him. His spirit engenders a different expression. His appearance will also be very different than that of the woman we have just discussed."

Even with my own general lack of energy, I was curious as to where this was heading.

"One is attractive, while the other is not." I observed.

"And for good reason." Sam responded. "The discipline that one needs to force oneself to go to the gym a number of times a week is an admirable quality. That discipline manifests physically, just as the woman's indulgence does."

From the emphasis he placed on the word discipline, I could tell that he thought it more relevant than the guy's appearance itself. I came to the conclusion he simply put his emphasis on awareness. The end result was the same.

"The focus of one's awareness, in combination with the individual's spirit, is what forms ones appearance. The awareness a student focuses on his studies will affect his grades, as well as his future employment. The energy and attention you focus on your guitar will have a similar result. What a sorcerer must realize is that it is the quality of attention that is crucial. It is a point lost to most."

I attempted to listen to the best of my ability. My mind was wandering. Sam caught my eyes and held my attention.

"This is a crucial point. Please bear with me. I told you that when a person gets ready for the day, showers and brushes their teeth, does their hair and dresses, what the average person see's is how the person looks. The focus of sorcery is different. It is the attention and effort to look good for the day that the observer actually see's, though ones attention is indistinguishable from ones appearance."

"What does this have to do with a foundation, Sam?" I asked. I remained rather listless, but at least my curiosity was present once again.

Sam was looking out the window.

"Everything has an energetic foundation, and requires energy to function, which includes humanity and every other form of life. A dietician can calculate precisely how many calories you take in during a meal, and how many you expend during a specific work out. We can calculate how much fuel needs to be expended to send a ship to Mars."

Sam paused for a moment before continuing.

"Mainstream society seems to feel that popularity is the most crucial element of life. Imagine this scenario for a moment. Think of a person as a little tree. People will line up to get their picture taken watering the tree of a famous celebrity. It horrifies me. An individual can only utilize so much, the rest is wasted. One person watering a neglected tree will yield far more in the way of results. That is proper expenditure of energy."

He was looking me over once again. I really had no idea what he was looking for, but apparently it was to his liking.

"In general our species has focused on one specific aspect of existence. We have called it science, and it has been applied with extraordinary effect. We have turned our eyes to the heavens and discovered wonders. What remains elusive is insight into our own existence. That existence is dependent on issues far removed from those of the physical sciences."

When Sam fell silent for a moment I considered what he had said about sorcery being an abstract science. I had not done all that well in the sciences in high-school.

"Science is based on specific observations that remain consistent over time. Awareness is mutable, and occurs through an individual connection with the spirit. It changes, dependent on the both the situation and the people involved. Awareness, like water for a tree, operates as part of a reciprocal relationship. Energy is both given and received from applied awareness, which I refer to as attention. It does not move through the physical environment from point A to point B, so distance is irrelevant. It is mutable, so it cannot be observed or measured consistently. It is the quality of awareness that yields the result. That being the case, it is present day in and day out, hidden, yet plainly in view."

I considered what he had said about the cheesecake lady and the guy who went to the gym. I was haunted by the vision of Sara.

"Do you have an answer, Sam? There are many religions that attempt to offer an explanation."

Despite my question I had once again lost interest. Sam observed me for a moment, the corner of his mouth turned in a half smile.

"The answer to that is no. What I can do is guide you towards your own understanding. Ones connection with the spirit is unique. That being the case, the answer is as well."

I really had not expected an answer.

"The physical body is a very sensitive instrument, Al. It can perceive things beyond that of anything we can build ourselves. I told you that our potential has been squandered. The universe is predatory by nature. Your understanding would make you more difficult prey."

He had touched briefly on this topic a few times. It always elicited a strange response in me. It was a feeling I could not easily identify.

His next comment would have more relevance later on.

"Awareness cannot be effectively separated from the energy that bestows it. They are interdependent. It is like ones appearance and the attention one puts in to get ready for the day. I have brought up the subject of crows a few times. The evolutionary path of the crow has led to something very different than that of evolutionary path of humanity. They are different spirits. Crows do not, of course, build roads or cars. They do not build telescopes that can peer into the depths of the universe."

He paused for a moment.

"What they can do is perceive the specific form of energy that relates to awareness. The crows observe it directly. They have a simple though complex language to identify and manipulate awareness. There are many specialized species in the world, and the crows are one of them. It is also an ability that can be cultivated in humanity."

At that moment I wanted nothing more than to conserve my own energy by placing my head on a pillow. I decided I would have to take his word on it.

Sam had other plans.

A Sliver of Eternity

After our talk Sam busied himself in preparation for our outing, the form of which remained a mystery. I stayed put on the couch. I was still suffering from a lack of energy. I realized that I was rather hungry, and when I looked at the clock on the wall it was well past noon. I wondered what had happened to lunch.

"Are we going to eat before we head out?" I asked.

"I am afraid that you are going to have to wait awhile, Al."

Al. A few days and I barely registered that he was calling me something other than my given name. I spent some time considering the course of events that had brought about my stay with Sam. I had been on the verge of a breakdown when I left town.

I thought about what he had said about my being put back together. I was certain of one thing. I could not have maintained the state I was in before I left home. That being said, I really did not know how I felt about the prospect of being put back together.

Sam broke my reverie by informing me that we were ready to go.

I got my winter gear on and followed Sam outside. He had offered no information as to where we were heading, and keeping in mind his penchant for surprises, I had not been inclined to ask. I was prepared for a walk, but he headed to the garage instead.

He went inside and approached a large, covered object. With his usual sense of drama, he unveiled what was hidden beneath in a flourish. It was a snowmobile. I was happy we were not going to walk.

"Do I get a hint as to where we are going, Sam?"

"You have an appointment with eternity tonight, Al. You would not want to show up for it unprepared, would you?" He flashed me a smile, leaving me to wonder as he got the snowmobile ready to go.

Eternity. I had had a few dates like that. Some seemed longer than others.

Without further ado, Sam hopped on and motioned for me to take my seat behind him. Once I had settled in he wasted little time getting going. Sam set out in a direction we had not gone before, though the path through the trees had obviously been maintained. Sam was by no means a timid driver.

The surrounding landscape passed as a blur.

It could not have taken more than fifteen minutes for us to reach our destination, but we covered quite a distance just the same. I looked curiously over his shoulder as we approached a small structure. It was octagonal in shape, and the entrance was covered with what appeared to be canvas. There was a small woodshed to one side which sheltered a quantity of split wood, as well as an axe and other tools.

Sam drew the machine to a stop, and waited for me to get off before following suit. Having done so, he went to the woodshed and emerged with a shovel, which he handed to me unceremoniously.

I took the shovel and let my curiosity get the better of me.

"What are we doing here, Sam? What is this appointment you mentioned?" My next question was more pressing. "When do we eat?"

Sam chuckled quietly. "So many questions. You must be feeling better."

He paused and looked at me solemnly.

"I cannot explain any more at the moment. Tonight you have an appointment with eternity, and it can be very dangerous for the unprepared. Your appointment will not be without consequence. The sweat will assist you. Now, what I need you to do is take the shovel and clear a patch of ground in front of the lodge big enough for a fire, as well as the both of us."

So our outing was to be a sweat. My curiosity was sated, although it appeared my hunger would have to wait. I wondered, not for the first time, where he had come by his knowledge. The idea of a sweat brought to mind Native American traditions, though he had never mentioned them.

He offered nothing more, so I busied myself clearing a space.

When I had an area cleared, he enlisted me to gather some wood for the fire, while he went to work with some kindling and the supplies he had brought. It did not take long for him to get it started. I brought two round logs that I found beside the lodge, which would serve well as seats.

I sat for a while and watched as Sam tended the fire. When he was satisfied he took his seat as well. The idea of having a sweat was rather appealing. I had been in saunas on occasion and they were very relaxing. I could only hope that, in this case, my expectation would hold true.

The fire had grown to a decent size. Sam added some wood and went to the lodge, pulling aside the canvas and disappearing within. He emerged with a heavy sack in one hand and a bucket in the other. He emptied the sack beside the fire, which contained a large number of dark rocks. A couple scoops of snow went into the bucket, which was placed next to the fire.

The ingredients for the sweat were all present, which included both myself and Sam.

"We need a good set of coals going to get the rocks hot enough for our sweat. Once we begin, you must not leave the lodge. I will deal with the rocks and the water. As we sweat I simply want you to do your best to quite your mind and cultivate inner silence."

I found that remaining silent would not be much of an issue. Due to my lethargy neither my mind nor mouth were very active, though my stomach voiced complaints once in a while. We did not discuss the matter any further. He threw a couple logs on the fire, casting a shower of sparks. Without anything else to go on, I had to content myself with watching the play of flames.

Sam broke the silence eventually.

"The focus of sorcery is awareness. I told you that a sorcerers mind is his environment. Each and every one of us is part of the environment itself. It is why the coyote call affected you the way it did. An individual's awareness changes in accordance to a variety of influences, such as the weather. The environment comes first, followed by the individual, and only then do others come into play."

I thought about some nirvana lyrics, 'Weather changes moods.'

His attention was on the fire.

"Modern man is beset by a host of mental and emotional problems. This is not to say that they were not present throughout history. Long ago those people were referred to as being 'touched' by the spirit. Nowadays doctors have adopted the habit of prescribing a vast regimen of pills to treat the issues. They are treating the symptoms instead of the condition itself. They identify the cause of many such problems as a chemical imbalance."

He looked towards me.

"When a person lays in the sun for a long period of time, the pigment in their skin grows darker as a result. The brain is a far more sensitive organ than the skin. Psychological problems are generally spiritual in nature, but as I have said on a number of occasions, the spiritual and the physical are not independent of one another. The chemicals in the brain adjust due to a variety of influences. Those influences can be as physical as drugs, or as subtle as an emotion."

For some reason nirvana was on my mental playlist, 'It's ok to eat fish, cause they don't have any feelings.'

During my time with Sam he had referred to the body as the spirit. He also said that our physical form was our connection with the spiritual realm. Although Sam claimed to be a sorcerer, up till that point I had experienced nothing I could call spiritual.

I asked Sam about it.

"There is no magic in the universe, Al. That being said, you will not live a moment of your life without being beset by the magic of existence. Perhaps someone tells a joke which elicits a laugh, or you are watching TV and a tender moment brings a tear to your eye. Both that laugh and that tear are the true magic of life."

Sam paused for a moment, looking away from the fire to catch my eye.

"Some people are only consciously aware of the physical. They live their lives without knowing anything to the contrary. I told you that the path of a sorcerer is the journey home."

"You also said you will never get there."

Sam offered a lopsided smile.

"That is true. When one is born it is a step away from the original source. One can never return, though the attempt can be made. What we generally perceive in life is a result of our assumptions, our prejudices, our hopes and our fears."

I was looking at the fire, and doing my best to absorb what he was saying.

"There is a source for each and every individual. You are a musician, so I am certain you have watched music videos."

I nodded in agreement.

"In the same way that our lives stem from an original source, a musician can create a music video. That video can be playing simultaneously in many households across the world. He is only one musician. That is the nature of reality. An individual's consciousness can function on many levels at the same time. We are all composed of component parts and pieces. The goal is to act as a unit, with all the parts and pieces working towards the same end. It is not an easy task, as adversity is a constant, both internally and externally."

I was a surprised by his reference to music.

"Sorcerers have another theory. Each and every person who listens to a musical piece contributes to it back and forth throughout time. The artist in question must still compose it at one point. That is the reality of our existence. Time is, in a sense, an illusion."

I considered my own work as a musician and I considered my first live performance at the coffee shop. The idea that my audience contributed to the music I played was intriguing.

"Each of the layers represent a facet, like that of a precious jewel, and they all contribute to the whole. That being said, one generally focuses on one facet in particular. In our search for control, people have a tendency to put all their eggs in one basket. In modern society people jack themselves up on amphetamines, or bring themselves low with a drug like heroin. A truly brave individual will try a hallucinogen like mushrooms, and relinquish their grasp on reality. One again, it requires letting go. In the end, the drugs are not truly necessary."

He was looking at me with an expression I had not seen before. The flames from the fire reflected off his eyes.

I laughed nervously. "Alright, Sam."

"Awareness can be dramatically altered by mood." Sam continued. "When one is depressed the world can appear harsh and unforgiving. Someone who is happy in that very same world will see something that validates their mood. A sorcerer does his best to escape the mirror of self-reflection. That is how the flame of conviction is cultivated. The world does not change according to one's mood."

I was once again plagued by thoughts of Sara. There were no words to describe my time with her. It actually had felt like the whole world had changed. That very world turned barren and desolate once she was gone.

I used the technique Sam had shown me with the fire to clear my emotional state once again. It was an effective. Why I do not know.

Sam had described the 'World of Appearances.' In a rather detached manner, I thought about what I had seen in regards to my friends and family. My experience before leaving town had caused me a great deal of distress. Despite the ghost of Sara, I felt a sense of relief. Maybe my emotional state had simply created a false impression.

I shared my observations with Sam, who looked a little shocked at my assumption. He laughed quietly.

"I like to think that I am a wonderful instructor. Once again I must admit my limitations." He shook his head, though I was uncertain what it was in response too. "You wound up on my doorstep because you saw the face of society. It is not pretty. I have also told you that you are a mystery unto yourself. We are vast creatures—massive!"

He stood up and bent his arms out around his sides, his posture and expression becoming that of some strange creature. He waddled around the fire giving the impression of something of enormous size.

Despite my lack of energy, I had to laugh at his display. He took his seat once again.

"When one is depressed ones emotional state will highlight aspects of one's situation which are the cause of one's emotional distress. Your natural desire to reject what you saw will not benefit you in the slightest. You were depressed because you lost your girlfriend, so you sought out the root cause of your loss. The result of which is that you left town, and wound up here with me. Our sweat will assist you to deal with those very issues."

I came to the decision that if I could not deny my experience, I certainly would not deny an offer of assistance.

"As a sorcerer I do not believe in mental illness. Absolutely everything one experiences is a reality. The only question is how much does something weigh. The delusions of a psych patient are real to the patient in question, though if those experiences are not shared by others, in the end they weigh very little. Consider the sorcerers hypothesis that dark matter is awareness. Over ninety percent of the mass of the universe is a result of awareness itself. Modern society, in a sense, can be considered a mass delusion, and unfortunately it weighs a great deal."

Sam appeared to be in fine spirits, though at that moment I could not say the same. The relief I had felt when I thought I could simply dismiss what I had experienced before leaving town was in question. I really did not know what to believe. Sam had said once that denial was a reality to be feared. I was worried that he might be right. I still wanted to be able to reject what I had experienced.

I looked over to see Sam observing me carefully. I am certain my expression was not one of happiness.

"Our emotions evolved for a reason, Al. The unfortunate thing is that most people are simply at their mercy. What our emotional state does is tell a story. In that spirit our emotions serve a purpose, though most indulge and are not attentive to the tale being told."

"What possible purpose could it serve, Sam?" The appeal in my question was obvious. Evidently, I was most people. If my depression had a story to tell, I was unaware of it.

That was the conclusion I had come to in my own 'World of Appearances.' Sam saw something different altogether.

"Your emotional state was attempting to identify the very issues which led to its onset in the first place. What you saw was the face of society. That face is usually concealed, and it is never pleasant. What you did not understand, at that time, was that your own identity was tied to that very face. In the end, you are as much to blame for what happened as those you associate with. You were wearing that face while your relationship fell apart. You simply identified that face as the cause of your depression."

He fell silent, observing me with clear eyes.

"Neither you, nor your friends and family, were ever given a choice. That face is part and parcel of the human condition. It is not, however, a requirement of being human. It is a mask that can be removed, if given the opportunity."

Oddly enough his statement actually made me feel better. If Sam was correct, it was not a face I wanted to wear. Sam said that I never been given a choice. He had also offered to write me a new ticket.

It would be years before I understood the true relevance.

"If negative emotions can work to ones benefit, it is also a fact that positive emotions can lead one astray. The obvious example of this is mania. In the beginning a manic individual can be positive and pleasant to be around. Unfortunately that has a tendency to draw attention. As they draw more of the positive towards themselves, they cycle ever higher. It is possible to claim anything one wants in life. It matters little if those claims are baseless, though it is not possible to utilize anything in a productive manner which does not have a physical ground as a foundation."

The fire that held Sam's attention sent out a shower of sparks.

"As an individual's mania escalates, they wind up losing touch with physical reality completely. In the end there is no physical ground for that energy. They will cease sleeping altogether. They will not eat. The end result is that they are usually hospitalized."

He turned to look at me.

"Once again, doctors will prescribe a regimen of medication, including heavy sedatives. One of those pills would knock a person in a normal state of awareness out for days. It can take weeks for sedatives to work for a truly manic individual. If they are neither resting nor eating, where does the energy come from? That energy has is generally the result of ones thought process and emotional state. It is also a good mood."

The fire was once again his focus.

"The doctors diagnose the state as a chemical imbalance. What their science does not allow for is that it takes energy to be aware, and that that very awareness need not be tied to the physical directly. The consciousness of a manic individual alters dramatically. Although it is a good mood, in the end it does not benefit the individual at all."

I could not claim to be a scientist, nor had I ever been in contact with anyone in a manic state. Sam did appear to know what he was talking about. I could only wonder why someone who was not eating or sleeping could even function, let alone be energetic.

"If what you are saying is true, Sam, why can't we measure the energy? From what you are saying it has a dramatic effect."

Sam laughed quietly.

"There is no scale that will tell you how much your depression weighs, Al. You cannot measure how long a thought is. Two religious people cannot be compared with one another in an attempt to see who believes more. Awareness is the focus of sorcery, and sorcery is an abstract science."

Ask a stupid question.

"You cannot build an instrument to measure that energy. The instrument that measures that energy is one's spirit—the body itself. Awareness exists due to ones living connection—there is no distance involved. Linear energy and awareness go hand in hand. They are at once both complementary and contradictory. What one perceives during the light of day is very different than what one is aware of in a darkened room. Our bodies are the most sensitive instrument imaginable."

He studied me for a moment in silence.

"I made a point here that I do not think you picked up, Al. I told you that it is possible to claim whatever you want in life." He snorted in amusement. "You can even claim to be god, if you are so inclined, though it is a very difficult claim to back up."

Yes, it most certainly would be. If you could prove that you would be very heavy indeed.

"I have an admission to make, Al. Earlier I effectively drained you of a great deal of energy."

I must admit I was offended. I considered how I had felt for a large part of the afternoon. My energy level had been far from vigorous.

"Why would you do that, Sam?" My own experience for the day leant weight to his argument. That was the first time I realized that Sam's methodology could be dangerous.

"Your thought process has created your own 'World of Appearances.' Your energy supports that world. In a sense you have never really left home. I drained you of energy because I needed to create some room and provide you a new foundation. That is why we are here. The old must make way for the new, at least in regards to your time with me."

I was reminded of the 'No Solicitors' sign on his door. I looked from the rocks to the fire and understood that his day, unlike my own aimless wanderings, was not being spent without purpose. I could not think of a suitable response.

"I told you that one can claim whatever one wants. In the case of a manic individual, those claims wind up baseless, and they lose their foundation. A physical ground is always a requirement. Our foundation is energetic by nature. What you require is a new foundation."

He considered me with a smile.

"With that in mind, I would like to discuss what is yours."

I was wary. "What is mine?"

"Yes. It is a preoccupation of man. We are obsessed with possessions. Take this for example," he took in the surroundings with a wave of his hand, "this is all mine. It is an agreement I have arrived at with my fellow man. My personal opinion is very different. Both my body and mind are products of my environment. I do, however, have to placate my fellow man."

We had ridden the snowmobile a long way in a short period of time. I was rather surprised to realize the extent of his property.

"You do not consider this yours, Sam?"

"I am alive and have a home due to the abundance of food and resources that the landscape provides, Al. How could I possibly own something that is responsible for my very existence?"

I had to think about that for a moment. I also realized that at some point he had obviously acquired a great deal of money.

"One's awareness is a form of energy which is on loan, Al. It is relinquished in the end. I told you that you are the totality of everything you experience throughout life. That which is given, must one day be returned. It is the process of life itself."

I can honestly say that that particular theory held little appeal for me.

"What, you are saying that even my experiences are not my own?"

His expression was almost sheepish.

"Sorcery is not a lesson on how to win friends and influence people, I am afraid."

Despite my basic inability to accept what he was saying I was now truly curious.

"Alright Sam, enlighten me." It was rather like a scary movie—you watch anyway. "What is truly mine?"

Sam was unmoved by my sarcasm.

"You have the ability and freedom to shape your experience any way you choose. You decide how to apply your attention. The two currents of energy engender your own, unique spirit, and that spirit is free to do as it will. It can be humble or magnificent. It can be ugly or beautiful. The freedom to shape ones experiences as they see fit is the true gift of life."

I have no idea why what Sam was saying offended me so. I was poised to reject his response. Looking back at that moment I have any number of theories as to why. One of them was a sense of guilt.

My denial was never made verbal. As he concluded I was struck by the vivid memory of what could have been any Sunday; a cup of coffee, a cigarillo, and my guitar. I had spent hours on my own writing and playing, coaxing melody from the guitar and lyrics to accompany it. I had found that the artistic process came from a completely different place than anything else in that was present in my life.

What was realized during my sessions generally evolved in its own way. It was usually a surprise.

I looked up to see Sam regarding me calmly.

"You are asking me to consider myself a work of art?"

Sam looked back at the fire before answering.

"I have told you that you are an investment." He paused for a moment. "Al is, anyway. It is a rare person who realizes either the freedom or the potential of existence. People do what they think they should do. You get a job, you date a girl, and eventually you have a few kids. And above everything else are the chains that adorn us. You assert... I am just me."

"I have been me every day of my life, Sam."

The fire threw sparks as if in denial.

"Yes it does get tedious does it not?"

That comment struck a nerve. I mean I was not unhappy with myself but there were times...

"I call you Al in attempt to liberate you. You believe you know everything about yourself. I see not but a social construct. I have a completely different idea. You have absolutely no idea who you are. Al is an unknown. In my methodology that unknown is closer to reality than who you think you are."

He turned from the fire to look at me once again.

"You are a sliver of eternity."

The next few moments were accompanied only by the sound of the fire. What Sam was saying somehow provoked a profound and all too familiar sense of loss. It was in some way related to my failed relationship. This feeling was deeper, though far more subtle.

I did not know where the sadness led so I opted for anger.

"Oh trust me, Sam, I am not an eternity, sliver or otherwise. I am twenty-seven now. My life will end at some point."

Perhaps it was sadness.

I really have no idea what Sam saw at that point. His response was to gather a few rocks and toss them in the fire one by one.

"Both you and the fire are ready, Al. Try to remember what you are feeling at this moment and hold it to the best of your ability while we sweat."

The fire had a good base of coals. I could not claim my emotional state as sound.

"In spirit there is no judgment. As people we respect wealth and power. We strut around like peacocks on display. The strange thing is that what is offered is freedom, and in response we adopt chains as status symbols. When you approach a human being and tell them that they are free to do as they will, and that in the end, it is their own choices that are important, one generally hears a little voice say, 'Why would my opinion mean anything?'"

Unlike our first real conversation, this time there was a touch of compassion in his voice.

"There is only awareness and experience. What one offers, in the end, can encompass whatever one desires. A sorcerer knows that what one experiences in life is largely due to the manner in which one invests their awareness and attention. We are always doing it wrong. The vast diversity of theory and religion did not occur by chance. It is all of value to the in regards to the spirit."

I kept my eyes on the fire. My strange mix of emotions left me off balance. Sam was silent. I tried to identify what was causing my inner turmoil.

Sam had said on occasion that everyone had a unique connection with the spirit. Although I appreciated the argument for freedom, for some reason I had hoped for some sort of direction. Approaching my life experiences as a form of art made the same concept far more personal somehow. He was not giving me answers. This was much worse.

He was telling me it was up to me.

The Nagual

Sam had me enter the lodge first. I ducked my head and walked inside, taking a seat on one of the blankets he had packed. In the center was a shallow pit that had obviously been there prior to the ground freezing. Sam told me to disrobe and exited briefly, returning with steaming rocks that went into the pit. When he exited the second time he took my clothes. This time he entered sporting a bucket of water and nothing else.

All the ingredients necessary were present. Combined they created an all-encompassing mist of heat, humidity, and the resulting sweat. My mood lingered, though I was not entirely certain it was due to Sam's request. The problem was that I could not effectively pinpoint the cause. It had something to do with the concept that I was a sliver of eternity.

In the end what did I have to offer?

After Sam had doused the rocks a second time the image of Sam was far less substantial than my emotional state. The heat eventually made it as hard to think as it was to see. Soon all that remained were my emotions, and like the sweat, they were being wrung from me.

During the course of our time within, Sam kept one set of rocks on the fire and the other in the pit. I lost count of how many times he had gone back to the fire. Time, like everything else, lost its continuity. I was aware of nothing but the heat and my body, enveloped as it was.

Nothing was said while we were inside. I went through some strange form of emotional catharsis. While inside I saw the faces of everyone close to me back home. I also saw the face which had caused so much discomfort before my departure.

By the time we were done both my emotional state and the ghosts which caused it were gone completely. Sam touched my shoulder and indicated it was time to go. I was surprised to see that the sun was very low on the horizon.

I believe that I had lost a few pounds, both emotionally and physically.

Once emerged I stood naked in the snow, my skin adjusting to the abrupt change in temperature. The shock of moving from one extreme to another managed to start my mental process again. Trails of vapor were rising from Sam's skin, which gave him the appearance of some otherworldly spirit. I am sure I looked the same.

I honestly felt as if I had taken some sort of powerful hallucinogenic. It was unlike anything I had experienced before. I had felt completely disconnected during the sweat. The transition into the chill air had quite the opposite effect. I had never felt more present. My only company was Sam, although he was welcome just the same. As I adjusted to the air outside I could only think that the experience was akin to being born again.

Once we had dressed Sam handed me a bag that he had packed, and inside I discovered a light dinner. He went about cleaning the site while I was occupied with my meal. He moved quickly, as if time were important. By the time I had finished eating he was done as well.

The evening had settled by the time we were finished. This did not slow Sam's pace in the least. Our path was illuminated only by the pale light of the moon and the headlight of the snowmobile, which cast swiftly moving shadows through the woods on either side.

An appointment with eternity was what Sam had promised. With my belly full and the lingering warmth within, the only thing left unsatisfied was my curiosity.

When the trees on either side gave way to the sight of Sam's cabin, I looked around for some sign of a visitor. There was no vehicle in sight. I was rather disappointed, but he had offered little in the way of information about who I would be meeting. My attempt to garner more information was futile.

The cabin was as empty as the driveway, though a welcome sight just the same. I took my coat and boots off while Sam busied himself at the hearth. Once the fire was lit, the individual candles followed suit. Sam's movements had an air of ritual about them.

I was about to find out what the days preparation had been for.

Sam took a seat across from me in the living room and cleared his throat. "The left side comes first, the goal is the right side. This evening you will make a new acquaintance." His tone was solemn and reserved. "New for you anyways, the Nagual has always been present, though it is not part of your consciousness presently."

Finally I had something to go on. "What is the Nagual, Sam?"

"The Nagual is the leader of a group of sorcerers. It is also the term used to refer to the energy on the left side of existence. I will introduce the two of you, and then I will leave you alone."

I looked towards the door. There was still no sign of a guest.

"Before the two of you meet, I should explain some theory. Sorcerers cultivate the ability to see the energy that relates to awareness directly. It is an ability which all creatures possess, though it manifests differently for all. Every species has a unique awareness. Ultimately it is what defines them. For now it is simply important that you know the basics. As I have said, life is composed of two complementary yet contradictory currents of energy. Sorcerers refer to them as the left side and the right side of awareness. They are the foundation of existence. We refer to the energy on the left as the Nagual. The right side is called the Tonal."

I was curious.

"Why is it important for me to know this before I meet your friend, Sam?"

"It is important because the Nagual is very powerful, and your introduction is not without consequence. Over the course of the day, I have both drained you of energy and provided a foundation for your introduction to the Nagual. It is possible to lose oneself entirely as a result. You must have knowledge of the Tonal as a means of protection. The Tonal, or the right side of the sorcerers' methodology, works through agreement. For now you are Al, and both your agreement and your ticket are with me."

He wrinkled his nose as if beset by a noxious odor.

"Your identity as Al is not that of a salesman. I have nothing to offer to your past, and I require nothing from you other than that you remain present throughout your introduction. For your appointment with eternity all I require is a blank slate."

I had no idea what to expect. I was both wary and curious. His reference to a leader and a group of sorcerers was intriguing. During the course of my time with him I had often wondered about his acquaintances. If I understood correctly he was a member of a group.

And I was about to meet the leader.

Sam was a very challenging individual. If the Nagual was in any way similar, his warning was unnecessary. I would have to be on my guard. There was still no sign of anyone at the door.

"Will the Nagual be arriving soon?" I asked.

Sam responded by rising from his seat and disappearing down the hall to his room. When he returned he was holding in his hands a little potted tree.

He set it reverently on the coffee table between us.

With his presentation of the tree my anticipation and nervousness evaporated. I wanted to laugh, but Sam silenced me with a stern glance.

"This," he said solemnly, "is the Nagual."

All I could think was that if that were the case, the sorcerers would not be traveling far.

Sam then proceeded to introduce me as Al, to the tree. His warning lingered, stifling any amusement I may have expressed.

I simply looked at the tree wondering if this was yet another strange trick on Sam's part. The silence that followed his introduction grew. It demanded some initiative on my part. I offered a weak 'hello.'

"Good." Sam nodded in approval. "I will offer some instruction on how to proceed. After I leave I want you to get to know the Nagual by describing it in as much detail as possible. Talk to it out loud and describe every little thing that comes to mind. The Nagual relinquishes its secrets only to those who vanquish their own self-importance. I assure you that if you manage to accomplish this, it will respond in kind. I will return when I feel the time is right. I have told you that success and failure are irrelevant. As with life, there is no 'right' way to approach this exercise, so feel free to do it wrong. It is the spirit in which one makes the attempt that has relevance."

Sam then left me in the company of the little tree.

I sat there after Sam had departed trying to wrap my head around this strange request. Sam had obviously been serious. The idea of holding a conversation with a tree, leader of a party of sorcerers or not, was difficult.

The tree waited silently as I attempted to come to grips with the situation.

Sam was already gone. I considered ignoring Sam's request and simply telling him I had done as he asked. I sat for a time doing nothing, and my mind began to wander. My thoughts wound up turning to Sara and what she would think about this situation. Her memory was not the distraction you might think, it was actually the persuasion I needed to participate in Sam's exercise.

Here I was Al. Sara would have to remain where she was.

"Well you have green leaves," I began.

My voice echoed oddly in the cabin.

The Nagual remained unmoved.

My descriptions started out with the obvious. I briefly described the trunk of the little tree, and then the branches. I will admit that I felt ridiculous talking to a tree. The sound of my voice was unfamiliar. I faltered briefly, and then remembered what Sam had said about the spirit of the attempt.

I carried on.

I described the texture of the trunk and the leaves to the best of my ability. I counted the branches, relaying the information to the Nagual when I was done. I counted the leaves on a number of branches and did the same. I soon grew bored of the mechanical observations, and paused one again.

Sam had said that the spirit in which I approached the task was important. I came to the conclusion that I could proceed as I wanted. I studied the trunk of the tree and my descriptions grew a little more abstract. Here I saw an eye in the bark of the tree; there I saw what appeared to be a snake. As I progressed my task seemed less odd and became more of a challenge. When I grew more comfortable with my role things became easier.

Sam had obviously taken a great deal of care with the tree. It was shaped and formed in an artistic fashion. The roots of the tree were above the line of the soil. How Sam had accomplished that I did not know, but I spent some time describing those as well.

A task that had originally seemed ridiculous began to occupy the whole of my attention. Sam would later call it ones 'totality.' There was always some new detail to examine. I voiced everything that appeared to me. When I tired of minutia I examined it as a whole.

I found myself telling a tale to justify the trees importance to Sam. My descriptions took flight along with my imagination. I began to tell various stories about the tree and Sam's party of sorcerer's. This was pure fantasy, but I proceeded regardless.

The tree was the leader in disguise, a missionary for a foreign methodology into which I was being initiated.

And I was not wrong.

How long I communed with the Nagual, I do not know. I lost all sense of time as my description continued. A task that had been embarrassing in the beginning became quite natural. At some point I fell silent and simply stared.

Eventually, much like my embarrassment had earlier, I vanished completely.

There was literally no concept of myself at all. There was simply the tree. And without any conscious transition there was only a glowing sphere of light.

I cannot explain how large it was. There was no sense of size or proportion. All I was aware of was a glowing ball which had luminous filaments passing through it in every way conceivable. They were countless in number, and continued past the sphere indefinitely.

There was no thought at all, only the vision of the luminescent sphere. I really have no idea how long my vision lasted.

I was brought back to the here and now by a firm slap on my right shoulder. Suddenly I had a body once again. The tree was once again a tree. It took me a moment to get my bearings. Sam had returned, though I had been unaware of him re-entering the cabin. I looked at him and found him smiling.

"That is far enough for one day."

I looked back at the tree wondering what had happened. My vision remained normal, and the tree offered no insight into my experience.

I had to wonder if that was the whole truth.

Sam took his seat across the table leaving the tree between us.

"Did you two get along alright?" he chuckled.

"What on earth..."

He responded to my unfinished sentence.

"Your attention on the Nagual became fixed and intense. Once you thoroughly immersed yourself in its detail, your Tonal succumbed to its inherent inadequacy and lost its crown, if only for a moment. The Tonal has a tendency to revel in the glory of reducing an eternity into not but a noise." Sam grunted magnificently in approval. "My little tree is a sliver of eternity, as you are, and you have witnessed it directly."

I stared at him without comprehension.

"How did your description go anyway?" He wanted to know.

I found my tongue and told him that I had explored it for a long time. I sheepishly told him about my storytelling as well. He looked at me with approval, his eyes shining.

"That little tree is. You witnessed the awareness of the tree directly."

"You are telling me it is aware?"

"Every form of life is aware in one way or another. I told you that all life courts a specific form of awareness. The awareness of the tree is the tree itself. It is the embodiment of the number one, and your storytelling has provided it with something else entirely."

Sam fell silent for a moment as I attempted to understand my energetic vision.

"You have an energy body as well." Sam continued. "The eyes are made to observe ones surrounding environment, not to gaze lovingly at a mirror. The Nagual defies description, it has neither a beginning nor an end. The Nagual's counterpart is the Tonal. It is the Tonal that simply takes a glimpse at something and dismisses it as tree. The details of anything are and eternity unto themselves. When I say that the Nagual and the Tonal are complementary, though opposing, I mean exactly that. One's Tonal allocates importance to what one observes in life. In the tradition of sorcerers the Tonal is both a guardian and protector. It shields you from that which you cannot process, as well as highlighting things of relevance to you as an individual. In modern day society the role of guardian has been adjusted. For the vast majority of humanity it works as a jailor instead. Ultimately freedom is what is offered. As I said, most wear their chains as status symbols and adornments."

I did my best to pay attention but I was distracted. I was still attempting to process what I had witnessed, and although I tried to find my voice, no words were forthcoming.

I had actually had a vision.

"All I want you to realize at the moment is that you could spend the rest of your life doing nothing but describing my little tree, and you would never run out of things to say."

He looked at me for a moment, his eyes twinkling.

"Take some time for yourself in whatever fashion you desire. We will discuss the Tonal before we retire for the evening."

I took him up on his offer and lay back on the couch, marveling at my strange experience.

The Tonal

I wound up in my room, spending some time by myself in an attempt to understand my vision. I felt odd, like something inside me had come undone. Sam told me that understanding would only come later, and that the only true relevance was that I had seen the Nagual and been recognized in return.

The odd feeling I had persisted while I spent my time alone. I once again experienced that strange division in myself. There was the part of myself which I had always known, as well as something foreign that was large and dark and unfamiliar. I was feeling a little uncomfortable, so wandered back into the living room to find Sam.

Sam's eyes conveyed a sense of concern. There is nothing worse than having something profound occur in your life, and having no understanding of the event at all. I asked him to explain what had happened.

"I told you that in life everybody knows, it's the not knowing that makes life bearable. There is truth to the statement. The Tonal assigns importance to what one experiences in life. Your Tonal was temporarily unseated while you communed with the Nagual. It also why you are having trouble understanding your experience. You will have to conceive a new right side. Without the translating mechanism of the Tonal you have developed throughout life, you do not have the ability to process what you have seen. Without the Tonal, you would find yourself lost to every tree; to every leaf and every branch. You would not make it far on a walk through the woods."

I had to laugh at the image that came to mind, one of me walking down a path and stopping to sit in front of every tree I came across. My amusement helped my state of mind, even if it provided little insight.

"Well what did I see, Sam?"

"You tell me."

I spent some time describing what I had witnessed. Sam seemed pleased and nodded.

"The average man is under the persuasion that he is separate from the environment. A sorcerer understands that he is an intrinsic part of the universe itself. When an individual defends himself he is defending the universe at the very same time. We are all part of it."

The idea that by defending myself I was defending the universe made me think of the coyote for some reason, and the effect that the call had on me.

In an attempt to translate the coyote's call, Sam had asked me if I thought I was going to make it. He also called the coyote the voice of a holy trickster.

Sam continued.

"The glowing ball that you saw is what is referred to in sorcery as the energy body. In essence it is the awareness of the tree. The energy body is the only separation one truly has, and that separation wrought through its very connection to everything else. The filaments that you observed are aware in their own right, and bestow awareness on the individual in question. They extend in perpetuity and have no affiliation. When you die, those filaments are no longer held by your energy body, and return the universe at large. The memory remains."

I was stuck by the memory of playing with Lego's as a child. I could not discount my vision, but I found it difficult to accept that I was similar to my childhood creations in some way.

"An example of a condition in which ones Tonal does not operate effectively is that of autism. Those individuals are beset by an enormous amount of information and they cannot allocate relevance to their experience. They have no filter. There are varying degrees of autism, but many need order and consistency in their environment. An autistic individual may need to have everything in their environment to be in a specific place. A personal with a healthy Tonal may think that they need those items in their environment in a specific place because they are important. The average man could not be more wrong."

I thought about a movie I had seen a few years back called Rain Man. Dustin Hoffman was a brilliant actor.

"If it is not important to someone why would they need everything in a specific place, Sam?"

"It is important to an Autistic individual because it creates no new input. If they know the exact location of items in their environment they are doing so in order to deal with their faulty Tonal. They can then dismiss the items in their environment as unimportant."

"Why would they want to create things that are unimportant, Sam?"

"They do it because if they know the precise location of objects in their environment, they have the capacity to ignore them. They are creating irrelevancies in their environment. It is the same way the Tonal dismisses an eternity as the noise, 'tree.' An autistic individual is making up for what they lack in life, which is a Tonal that functions normally. In that case they cannot filter what they experience in day to day life. As I have said, the order in their environment creates irrelevancies which they no longer have to process. People with autism generally have a very difficult time participating socially as well. Socially we have the ability to describe someone who does not fit in as a 'loser.' We make a stupid noise and dismiss them as irrelevant. In one manifestation, the Tonal can also be thought of as the social body, and for the vast majority society rules."

I was feeling similar to the autistic person at the moment, the recipient of far too much information. The odd sense of division within me remained.

"All one has to rely on in life are the physical senses, Al. I do not want you to lose sight of that simple fact."

"How can you possibly say that, Sam?" I had just had my truly spiritual experience, and I could only think it had little to do with my eyes.

"The Tonal provides an important function. It is only ever a small piece of a larger whole. Your vision was the result of you perceiving with the totality of your being. As humans we have the tendency to operate as parts and pieces. On the one hand the Tonal unites us all under the category of 'human.' It also separates us from everything else. That being the case, it is important to realize that the physical body of the tree is the end result of its own spirit, just as your physicality is the end result of yours. In general it is beneficial to leave things skin deep. You can learn what you need to know through simple observation." He raised an eyebrow to emphasize his point. "There really are no secrets in life."

I thought about his statement for a moment. Someone had told me once that the skin was the largest organ of the human body. His emphasis on the physical had been consistent during my time with him. I simply found it odd after what I had just experienced.

"I said that the Tonal is the social body. The Tonal operates through agreement. We are sitting here having a conversation." He took the surroundings in with a gesture. "The noises I am making right now have no relevance other than the fact that you and I agree that they have meaning."

The point was lost on me. The concern was still present in his tone. I was frustrated, and as my frustration grew, my understanding retreated like an ocean tide.

"What noises, Sam?"

He pointed at my mouth with a smile.

"Those noises, for instance. Both you and I agree that when you say 'Sam' you are referring to my person. I can also say 'clock.'" He pointed at a clock on the wall. "We both speak English, and through that agreement, we both know what I am referring too."

I looked at the clock on the wall. I found still found his point elusive.

"Yeah, I guess, Sam."

"Language operates through agreement, and as such it is the domain of the Tonal. Without that agreement the noises I am making right now would be nothing but gibberish."

"You are not far from that now anyway, Sam."

He smiled before responding.

"You accept that your words have relevance. They form your thoughts and relationships. It is something that you have never questioned. There is a great deal of power in language, Al. The words that you speak are a more refined, more purified expression of your own experience. When we describe how an individual's appearance, as well as the way they carry themselves, we call it 'body language.' You are who you are due to an inherent agreement with your own personal expression. That being said, each and every one of us defines each other in regards to the rest. It requires acceptance, but true acceptance, in regards to others or yourself as a person, is difficult to attain. You, like my little tree, are a refinement of the whole."

I motioned for him to continue.

"The little tree is. Your description and attention to the endless detail of the tree brought you to an understanding with the Nagual. There are an infinite number of points between any two points on a line. A sliver of eternity is an eternity just the same. We are eternal from moment to moment, from frame to frame. You realized that in regards to my little tree. You are no different. You are."

He met my eyes with a level gaze.

"I am." He let the statement linger for a moment. "It is my totality. We encompass eternity within ourselves. My little tree assisted you in identifying that very truth within yourself, although all you recognized was the tree itself. We are not parts and pieces. We are. When you leave here you might describe your time here and tell people you met a sorcerer. That is my own claim, though even that is a step removed from the reality. Maybe you will tell people that I was a good guy, or that I was very interesting. The same thing applies, language generally reduces and divides. At the same time, it unites us as people who speak English or as human beings. It is described as body language after all. Both the words we speak and your own physicality are manifestations of Tonal agreement."

Sam raised his eyebrows with a smile. "The question you have to ask yourself, Al, is which language is 'correct?'"

I had to admit that the question was a little absurd. Silence fell between us for a time, which gave me a moment to explore the strange sense of division I was experiencing. Once again I was struck by the impression of something vast and dark within myself.

The other part of me was thinking of my return home. It seemed completely unaware of the darkness.

I would probably would tell people that I had met a sorcerer. I realized it really would make a good story. Sam drew me back to the conversation as he continued.

Both parts of me remained.

"As I have said, the Tonal operates through agreement. Your physicality is an agreement with the divine. Your spirit is that very manifestation. If an individual is a personal agreement then what, in the end, does anybody have to complain about? It is your own agreement, after all. Through simple observation of what is around you it is possible to identify both yourself and the influence of the right side. The Tonal simply loves bodies moving in unison. Choreography in music videos is enticing and appealing. It is why both rhythm and rhyme contribute so much to a song. When you hear words that rhyme they are appealing. Once again, one realizes the agreement."

The topic of music had my attention. I forgot about the dark part as I turned my mind to what he referred to as the Tonal. I really did not understand his point in regards to language. Music was another thing all together. I began to see the relevance.

He quoted a Smarties commercial.

"Always eat the red ones last! Sorting things according to color is another aspect of the right side. Due to its inerrant agreement, advertising almost always courts the right side. Repetition is yet another example of agreement that is utilized as a sales tactic."

I had been exposed on many occasions to what Sam was describing. Up until that point, however, I had never had the opportunity to talk to a sorcerer. His talk about sorting things according to color gave me an idea of my own."

"I suppose racism works similarly."

Sam broke into a smile. "Yes. People with the same color skin are generally more appealing."

I thought about my vision.

"Where does the Nagual come into it, Sam?"

He took on a more serious expression.

"In all honesty, Al, the Nagual can only be experienced. It is possible, however, to both experience the Nagual, and to act in accordance with it as well. It requires inner silence. Why define something that cannot be defined? It makes us feel powerful to dismiss an individual as a 'loser.' Our lives, in the end, are defined by our own, self-imposed restrictions. I told you that the concept of left and right is subjective. It is a big world. You are one small person. The world resides to the left of you. Your body is now twenty-five years old. You agreed to be who you are. Your words are but a tiny refinement of your life experience. Why then, do we bitch and complain so much?"

He turned his gaze to the fire and continued.

"Consider this example for a moment. Two men are walking down the street one afternoon. One of the individuals is afraid of dogs, the other individual has no such fear. A woman walking a dog approaches the two people. Who gets bitten?"

"The man who is afraid of dogs." I commented.

"And what is the dog doing in regards to the situation other than agreeing with that individuals fear. You're afraid of me?" Sam bared his teeth wolfishly. "Your right! Be afraid!"

Sam's expression turned to one of sorrow.

"In the end what the universe is saying is not to be afraid. Unfortunately, the average man simply realizes that he was correct in the first place. Dogs are scary."

Sam's expression of sorrow was short lived.

"I have said that the right side is appealing. Our Tonal is supposed to function as a guardian and a protector. Unfortunately a guardian and protector can turn to 'jailor' quite easily. The Tonal of man has been effectively high-jacked. The end result is that an act on the left side is generally repellant. Agreement holds little weight in that regard. What possible agreement can one hold in regards to everything?"

He turned from the fire and looked me over once again, the concern apparent.

"Agreement is a powerful force. I told you earlier that in a sense, it is not possible to say 'no.' Every act in life is a validation. If you are in a bar and someone decides to pick a fight with you, you can either agree with the violence of the situation, or you can agree with the concept of being a bigger man, and walk away. It is beneficial in any situation to identify which agreement you hold. You came out here as a result of what you experienced back home. You might want to consider it a denial. You agreed to leave. The agreement we hold at the moment is that you are 'Al.' Nobody else you know holds that agreement. Our agreement unites the two of us, and at the same time separates us from the rest. When we discussed what your emotional state, I did my best to explain that one's emotional state identifies its own cause. You were depressed, and you identified aspects of yourself in your own environment which caused your own depression. What you failed to see was that you contributed to the experience yourself. You failed to recognize your own agreement."

"Yeah, I know, Sam." Where that agreement came from I really had no idea.

He raised his eyebrows, observing me calmly for a moment before nodding in agreement himself.

"Yes, you do. You are beginning to realize that."

He fell silent momentarily.

"I told you that the sorcerer's journey is the journey home. As a refined part of a larger whole, one can never return. There is honor in the attempt. It is all one can do. Unfortunately, due to the Tonal, one is generally trapped by reflections. A sorcerer does his utmost to escape the mirror of self-reflection. Once again, it is not entirely possible. One can only make the attempt."

My thoughts were back home again as well.

"You said that 'I Am' is one of the sorcerer's statements. What is the other one?"

My question elicited a smile.

"And Yet--" As with the first of his statements, he let the second linger as if to savor it.

"With the space created by that simple statement, a sorcerer adjusts his conviction. The flame of conviction in a sorcerer is always lit, but the only way to explore the Nagual is by adjusting ones perspective. In effect a sorcerer simply dons a different outfit. With that adjustment in perspective, the mirror still operates, though the sorcerer will perceive a different reflection."

When he first discussed the sorcerer's conviction I had considered it an absolute. Apparently I was mistaken. I found the prospect of simply changing ones point of view, and experiencing a different reality as a result, rather intriguing.

Sam stretched and told me that he needed to get some sleep. It had been a very long day. He patted my leg in an offhand way.

I helped him put out the candles and retired to my room. Without Sam to talk too, the reason for his concern soon became evident.

The Breakdown

That evening the covers offered little comfort. Something within me had come undone. I adjusted my position again and again to no avail.

I was reminded of the story of the princess and the pea. I could only think that I was such an ugly princess. I felt a moment of panic because I was afraid I would start laughing hysterically.

Whatever was causing my feeling of discord grew worse and worse. The little pea was working its way steadily into my mind. What I first assumed to be physical discomfort soon manifested as something else entirely. My mental state was deteriorating. I actually broke out in a sweat, the result of a growing sense of paranoia.

I could find no stability within myself. My thoughts grew more and more erratic, unable to find any sense of purchase. A flower of negativity blossomed in my increasingly fragmented mind. I was plagued by thoughts of Sara. This was not the Sara I had fallen in love with. I found myself imagining spiteful conversations that had never occurred. I heard her laughter, though there was no joy in it at all.

It was directed at me.

A kaleidoscope of unrelenting images passed before my eyes. Closing them did not help at all. I once again saw the faces of my friends and family. Their accusing stares surrounded me, offering no respite. I have no idea how long this continued.

The visions diminished to be replaced by irrational fear. I can only remember thinking at one point that I was losing my mind.

'How on earth did I wind up here?'

I became convinced that I was involved in some deep conspiracy. I had been set up. Sam was a corrupting influence. I felt an overwhelming desire to flee. I considered walking to my truck and staying there for the evening.

I actually managed to convince myself that Sam the devil sent to lead me astray.

I struggled beneath the sheets, in a vain attempt to escape my own thoughts, emotions, and the memory of friends and family. My downward spiral continued in the certainty of malicious intent. I was actually about to get dressed and leave when Sam's statement rang in my mind.

'And Yet--'

That simple statement caused a break in my thinking. Everything I was experiencing was still present, though I was detached in some way. I was able to observe my situation dispassionately.

My thoughts were a complete ruin. What I had been vaguely aware of earlier was that there was a separate aspect of myself. The only way I can describe it is as calm, dark water.

The part of me that was calm was Al.

With that realization my negative thoughts and emotions drained from me like water down a pipe. What remained simply floated in a dark sea.

I drifted peacefully for quite some time before finally sinking down, becoming completely immersed as sleep overtook me.

4

Motive

The Convict and the Crown

I have experienced a sleep like the one that evening sporadically throughout my life. There are a few consistencies of note. If I dream in that state at all there is no recollection upon waking. It is also a rest like no other, and the feeling of well-being that I enjoy afterwards has no comparison.

I lay in bed in a state of complete relaxation, which made the experience prior to falling asleep all the more curious. The panic and paranoia I had experienced was not but a memory. As I lay in bed and thought about my breakdown, the memories seemed to belong to someone else entirely.

Maybe that was true.

My emotional state was stranger still. The state of well-being I was in allowed room for anger, but like the memory of the night before, the anger had a foreign flavor. It was neither the anger I experienced when Sam had laughed at me during our first real discussion, nor that which I experienced as I wiped the egg off my face. Normally we relate the emotion to heat or the color red. Anger is the only thing I could call what I was experiencing, though it was very, very cool.

I came to the conclusion, while lying there, that I had not been taking Sam seriously. I came to the conclusion that it had to do with the way I approached other people's beliefs. When I found the business card in my truck it had been an amusing curiosity. What I had gone through the previous evening was far from funny.

I believe I had experienced what it was like to be mentally ill.

When I considered our conversation the previous evening, I it was apparent that Sam knew I would suffer difficulties. I went over the previous day's events briefly. The vision of the tree was something I would never forget. Both the vision and the following breakdown made me realize that I had a problem.

Sam's theory was one thing as a curiosity or an intellectual exercise. It was another thing altogether when his theory yielded tangible results. My vision of the tree had been complete and lucid, which was in stark contrast to the terrifying descent into panic and paranoia. I could deny neither the reality of my vision nor the resulting breakdown. Far from an amusing curiosity, the effect of Sam's methodology was very real, and quite possibly dangerous.

He had said the introduction would not be without consequence.

While I lay in bed I came to the realization that I could no longer approach the beliefs of others in manner. I considered my situation for some time before I rose to face the day.

I emerged to from my room to find that Sam had breakfast out on the table. He offered me a greeting which I responded to with a nod. I took a seat, and Sam followed suit soon after. I held Sam's eyes for a moment, the meal before me untouched. Sam broke away from my gaze, his eyes travelling over my body briefly. He smiled in approval. Though my anger remained cool, his obvious approval did not help.

"What exactly did you do to me, Sam?"

Sam took a moment to gauge my mood before responding.

"An appointment with eternity always opens doors. I could only hope that you would make it through." He looked me over once again. "Obviously things turned out rather well indeed."

"I really do not know what you expect from me Sam, but what I went through before falling asleep was far from entertaining." I did not go into detail. For some reason it did not seem necessary.

My thoughts turned once again to my friend who had been diagnosed schizophrenic. In the calm depths of myself I once again acknowledged the fact that it was possible that both my host and the beliefs he fostered could have serious consequences.

When my friend fell ill he was confined to a hospital. I could only imagine what it would be like to live in that state.

"I am simply wondering why you didn't warn me."

"I told you that I consider you an investment. That is true, although you are also my way of repaying a debt. I set in motion a series of events that lead to you temporarily unseating your Tonal. At one point mine lost its crown for the first time as well, so have some idea what you went through. Your Tonal lost its seat due to my intervention, so I am quite certain it is not overly fond of me at the moment." He shook his head. "I am afraid that anything I could have said would have only muddied the water. There is really no way to prepare for a vengeful Tonal. In the end one must face eternity alone."

I thought about it for a moment. The clarity that I had experienced upon waking was still present. His presence had been terrifying during my breakdown. I looked at him with his lopsided smile and tried to see him as the devil once again. It was not but a memory, though the sense of danger remained.

There was another issue of note as well, although it only made things all the more difficult. I happened to like what I had identified as 'Al.'

I fell silent as I explored my new name, my eyes on my plate. A crossroads had been reached, and one path yielded to the comfort of the known, the other someplace dangerous though seductive. Sam put a great deal of emphasis on the concept of agreement. He did not intrude on the silence. That was left up to me.

"You say that my Tonal lost its seat. Could you explain what you mean by that?" My decision was not voiced consciously, though it was realized by the question itself.

I had spent eight months backpacking across Australia after graduation. I had grown a great deal during my travels.

"We can explore it in as much detail as you wish after we eat. Our breakfast is getting cold I am afraid."

For a time my mouth was occupied with something other than questions. My anger receded with my decision to continue. My question was not addressed until after we had cleaned up.

"The Tonal operates by assigning value and relevance to what one encounters in life. It also acts as a guardian and protector. The left side can be very dangerous. One of the proper functions of the right side is to evaluate what they the capacity to deal with, and to shield the individual from that which they cannot."

Sam caught my eyes with a level gaze.

"The role of 'guardian' or 'protector' is but a step away from 'jailor.' The Tonal of modern man functions as a jailor instead."

I could only wonder if that had something to do with my paranoid breakdown the night before.

"One manifestation of the Tonal is as the social body. What people generally find appealing are things that are valued socially. That might include nice cloths, jewelry, or a pretty girl on one's arm."

Sam looked out the window and continued.

"The physical body and the social body are distinct entities. A child is born with the former but not the latter. One's Tonal develops for the most part through social interaction. The distinction is crucial, because the social body will work toward the benefit of society, even at cost to the individual. In present day society it works only towards its own reign. Unfortunately it is feeding off of itself. The left side comes first—the goal is the right side. Society is, of course, composed of individuals."

If it were not for what I had experienced when I was so strangely divided the night before, his comment would have been more difficult to accept.

"The social body places value on many things which establish social authority. The ego is one such example. An individual's ego resides entirely within the social sphere. We are encouraged to defend it at all costs. What one winds up defending is the social body itself."

"You talk about it as if it is an actual body." I commented.

"It is an actual body. It is one that you can wear." Sam's response surprised me.

The curious state of well-being that I was experiencing provided the opportunity to turn my thoughts towards Sara without cringing. I considered what Sam had said about my identity and the collapse of my relationship. If Sam was correct there was a part of myself that would work to my own detriment. I would verify his statement through my own observations in the years that followed.

Yesterday Sam had said that an introduction to the Nagual was not without consequence. Both my vision as a result of that introduction, and the subsequent breakdown, had been both tangible and dramatic. For some reason my acceptance was akin to accepting defeat.

Why accepting the validity of another's beliefs was like accepting defeat is beyond me.

Sam continued.

"For the most part the Tonal assigns value to things that support its position. I have explained how energy is directed by ones attention. We also receive energy in return from that which we focus on. It is a give and take relationship. The quality of the attention is what defines the energy which is exchanged as a result. The modern social body is aberrant by nature. It avoids that which undermines its authority in any way. As I have said, the Nagual and the Tonal are two complementary, though contradictory, currents of energy that are both nevertheless true. The social Tonal of modern man blocks the left side at every opportunity. What is truly unfortunate about the social body is that there are many qualities that are beneficial to the individual, which might also undermine the social authority. A properly balanced expression leaves room for both, the result of which is strength on either side. The energy that most people express is a result of the social bodies influence, and presently it is nowhere near a state of balance."

"What can be done about the social body, Sam?"

"In the end, all one can do is attempt to find balance personally. If your desire is to be a contributing member of society, that very lack of balance can work to one's advantage. It is not something that motivates me at all. It undermines the left side. My investment through you will allow me to give something back. I have removed myself from society for my own reasons. As I said, it is a give and take relationship."

He fell silent for a moment before answering my original question.

"When you immersed yourself in the detail of my little tree, your Tonal was made aware of its own inadequacy. It is the seat of language, so it loves the power of reducing an eternity to a single word. People who do not fit in are dismissed as 'losers.' As you continued exploring detail after detail of the tree, your Tonal, which usually rules, was forced to face its own inadequacy in the face of eternity. The hold of your Tonal weakened to such an extent that it could no longer impede you. The result was that you were exposed to energy that was not of the social bodies choosing."

He raised an eyebrow while he held my gaze. "The difficulties you experienced last night were the inevitable result. Your vision will have a lasting effect on your awareness, though in what manner I really could not say. That is up to the Nagual."

"I guess I am simply wondering if I will suffer any more ill effects, Sam."

"Oh you can rest assured that your Tonal will attempt to reassert control. Your time with me will simply allow you the possibility of a balanced expression." He looked me over once again and smiled. "Your best defense is paying attention and identifying the various manifestations of the Tonal in your own life. You want a guardian and a protector. You do not want a jailor. Your Tonal failed in its bid last night, so it will have to find another way."

That was not the response that I had hoped for. I turned to ask another question, but I found him looking off into the distance, immersed in some thought I was not privy too. His expression held not but sorrow.

"It was not always this way, you know." He told me quietly.

"What was not this way, Sam?" Up until that moment I had never seen sorrow in Sam's expression before. My concern took second seat to his own.

"When the Tonal operated as a guardian we were encouraged to explore consciousness. Long ago our expression was very different. The Tonal is meant to protect us from the dangers of the unknown, which surrounds us at all times. The Tonal works towards organizing the surrounding chaos into something manageable. When it functions properly, it shields the individual from things which they are unable to face. Instead we have a jailor. You, I am afraid, are the convict."

I found myself fidgeting nervously. I wanted to avoid a repeat of the previous evening.

"What happened, Sam?"

"The Tonal has no value or importance in and of itself. When it performed its proper function it had no self-interest at all. Unfortunately human nature left an opening for an adversary. That adversary executed a stupendous maneuver. Humanity was offered a crown, and out of vanity the offer was accepted. The crown arrived the form of a mirror—visible only in the reflection. Our Tonal, when confronted by its own image, was capable of assigning value to itself for the first time. That is when the evolution of the human race was interrupted. Our species has been lost to its own reflection ever since."

The depth of sorrow carried more information than the story itself. I really had no idea if it was told as a parable or not.

"Since the time our Tonal caught sight of itself, the influence it asserts has grown ever more pervasive. When the Tonal acted as a guardian there was freedom to explore that which lay outside the lines. The Nagual was not viewed as a threat, and if the individual was capable, growth and development was encouraged. There is no longer room for any meaning but that of the Tonal. The ridiculous thing about the Tonal is that it has no meaning itself. The Tonal of a sorcerer acts as a selfless servant, without prejudice, and it does not judge. It highlights items of importance, warns of danger, and shields us from things we are unable to face directly. It is a very short leap from guardian to jailor. Without an environment, there would be no individual. Without the individual, the social body would not even exist. I take comfort in the fact that one day the aberration will reach its inevitable end."

When I looked at Sam the sorrow was gone, replaced by something else entirely.

"When I call you a convict I mean precisely that. You have been deemed guilty, and without some knowledge of your crime, your opportunity for freedom will be very brief indeed."

"But you said that things I do not understand are of no consequence." I commented.

"That is very true. One's lack of understanding does no harm, but it does not provide room for growth or development either. The universe is vast beyond human comprehension. As I have said, our potential as human beings has been squandered."

Until that moment I had had absolutely no idea I was in jail. After the events of the previous day I was fascinated, a little frightened, and very curious.

"Why am I a convict, Sam?"

"Up until this point we have been discussing the Tonal. It is necessary to understand that the focus of the Tonal is external, even if lost to a reflection. When an individual stares in adoration at a mirror it is not themselves they are admiring. You are out there." He motioned with his head towards the window. "The Nagual is a different expression altogether. It rules the inner realm, which is as vast and diverse as anything found in the universe at large."

His tone of voice mirrored his expression, which was one of utmost sobriety.

"I have explained that the social body is something that develops after one is born. Your physical body is the result of a collusion of assets that were present long before you were born, and which will remain long after you are gone. They are components of the Nagual's energy. The easiest way to refer to it is as a landscape. That landscape is an amalgam that was created when you were conceived. It is the strength of your living expression which unites it as a whole. That property is the foundation of any living beings existence."

Although my attitude in regards to his theory had undergone a change, I still could not figure out whether he was talking literally or not. It left me at a disadvantage, though I followed as best I could.

"I told you that the Tonal has no value in itself. That does not hold true at all for the landscape of the Nagual. Your life is what lends it stability. That landscape is what in turn defines your individual expression—your spirit, if you will. You provide that landscape a voice."

"What does that have to do with the crime I have allegedly committed?"

Sam relaxed a bit and offered a small smile.

"The crime is simple, and the concept of property is a useful metaphor." That answered one of my questions. "When there are many houses available in a market, property value declines. When there are very few, just the opposite occurs. Your spirit has made available both a vast plot of land, and a voice to go along with it. Your crime is essentially that voice. It diminishes the relative energetic value of other properties—of other voices."

I had the capacity to be offended, though about what I was uncertain.

"That is why I am a convict? I know nothing about this landscape at all. I fail to see how my existence could possibly be a threat to anyone."

"That is a tragedy in itself. I call you a sliver of eternity for a reason, Al. That sliver is an eternity just the same. It is a truth you may understand in time. One can gather as many as they wish, uniting them under one banner, under one voice. The result is that property value goes up. It is still not but a singular voice, though an eternity just the same. That is why your existence is a threat. You are but one individual, with a solitary voice, though your landscape is on par with any other."

I gained new insight into his concept of a sliver of eternity, though his statements seemed contradictory. He had referred to sorcery as an abstract science. It was only after my own observations that I realized it was an abstract science because it dealt with each individual on a personal level. It was abstract because every individual had different experiences.

I had to assume the landscape he referred to was not like the one his cabin rested on.

"Once again, I must emphasize that the Tonal has no inherent value of its own. Think of the right side as a highlighter, and the left side as a school textbook. One can highlight information of interest to the individual in question. Without the left side there is nothing to highlight. If you highlight a highlight, in the end you have said nothing."

I considered that for a moment.

"You would have a brighter highlight."

Sam smiled in return. "Yes, I suppose you would."

"That is why the reflection of the crown was so devastating. As you said, up until now you had no knowledge of the landscape that I am referring too. The inner realm is unique for all. You have had contact with it through your creative endeavors. It is the foundation of any existence. The majority of your time has been spent occupied by the social body. You have been in languishing in ignorance, your property, for the most part, left untended. Those who understand the nature of existence always push their adversaries to the right. To the right of your physical body one finds the social body. To the right one also finds prey. If one has no knowledge of the left side, it renders one impotent, and incapable of acting without approval. The consolation of society is all that remains, though empty in the end."

I was actually homesick for a place I had never known. The depth of the emotion caught me completely off guard. Caught up in it as I was, I could offer no response.

"I told you that I cannot predict the result of the Nagual entering your consciousness. When your Tonal lost its seat your physical body acquired energy that is foreign in regards to that which you have dealt with throughout your everyday life. There was a time when it was the norm. I will leave you with a final thought before I take my leave of you and do some work around the cabin. You have your own body, the very one that is sitting before me presently. There is also a landscape that you are free to explore at your leisure."

That statement was accompanied by an expansive gesture that included both myself and the surroundings. It would puzzle me for years.

Self-Awareness

Sam spent some time tidying up around the cabin which left me time to think. The time did not work to my advantage. My attention was on the painting that Sam had called 'For Your Eyes Only.' Sam told me that one who is depressed will inevitably identify the issues that lead to the depression in the first place. As I stared at the painting I grew more and more distraught.

My state of well-being had proved fleeting.

The problem I has having was in regards to what Sam described as the social body. He had given me his analysis of the motive behind my behavior in regards to my relationship. I had to consider the possibility that Sam was correct. Apparently Sara had been the enemy. His opinion was that my own identity had been victorious.

Sara had meant the world to me.

As I looked at the painting a few things became rather clear to me. With my newfound respect for Sam's theory, I was left in a quandary. It was possible that the motive behind my behavior in regards to Sara had been the opinions of those closest to me. I was considering the possibility that one of the people on the edge of the water was the social body. I had to assume that the other one was me. Was it possible that they were both me?

And Sara was the sun.

I found the notion that I had sabotaged a relationship with someone I loved dearly in order to validate myself an appalling betrayal. If his theory was only issue I might have been able to ignore the emotional discord.

Unfortunately I had no other viable explanation for my behavior.

I had left town in order to come to an understanding in regards to why things went wrong. Sam said that my entire life had culminated in the present moment. I heard the haunting call of the coyote once again.

While Sam busied himself around the cabin, I had the opportunity to weigh the significance of what he referred to as the social body. I could not see the faces of the people in his painting. Did they both look like me? As I considered his story I must say that I was horrified by the implications. If he was right, there was some part of me that would deliberately work to my disadvantage if it had cause.

If Sam was correct I could not even trust myself.

I found myself lost in a spiral of denial and self-doubt. If my own identity was truly the issue, I wondered how I could even rely on my own thoughts and emotions. Later I would realize that faith in yourself was one of the only certainties, for better or for worse. What I would learn in time was that trust in others was simply more complicated. There were other problems as well. If Sam was correct, it was possible to live an entire existence completely unaware of the issue I was presently struggling with. Sam had said that one can live and die without ever consciously knowing.

I could only wonder what Sam was investing in.

I began to realize that I both valued Sam's opinion and loathed it as well. Later in life I would also have the opportunity to observe the social body at work for myself. At that moment I could neither accept nor deny Sam's theory in regards to the social body.

When I am under stress my mind can go odd places. I had a vision of a white rabbit as I lay on the couch. 'I'm late, I'm late, for a very important date! No time to say hello, goodbye! I'm late, I'm late I'm late!'

Down the rabbit hole!

That vision quite naturally led to one of The Matrix. This time it was not Morpheus with a red and blue pill in either hand. It was Sam, decked out in black suspenders and sunglasses. Once again he was senile, and imperiously demanding to know which pill I wanted to buy.

The image was so bizarre that I burst out laughing. I must admit that it was not the most joyous sound. It made me feel a bit better anyway. Sam said something from the kitchen, but I was too busy trying to decide which pill to invest in.

Neither of my options were all that great. How do you know what the reality of your situation really is?

The real Sam was once again asking me a question.

"Sorry Sam, I was not paying attention. What was that?"

"I was simply saying that if you need to talk let me know. You have been exposed to a great deal in a short period of time. I did go through a similar process once myself."

I waved him away, content to wallow in the bizarre nature of my situation. He had said that our battles were a solitary affair. He had also said that our only real companion was the spirit. Apparently I had a social body to keep me company as well.

I would have preferred Sara's.

I turned my thoughts from that which left me questioning myself towards the concept of the spirit. If the social body was a reality, then the spirit had to be around somewhere.

My sarcasm yielded silently to an answer that shocked me. It was a whisper without words.

My spirit in regards to my present situation was one of humor.

I came to a lucid understanding in regards to what Sam called the spirit. Sam was right. There actually was a spirit, though not in the form I had imagined. It was not a ghostly apparition, nor was it specifically the physical body.

My insight in regards to the spirit crystalized. When Sam had answered the door, he answered it as a senile old man. That was my introduction to Sam. I found myself wondering if it was, in fact, Sam who had been senile.

Although my insight was silent, it was no less profound. The spirit was the manner in which you approached a situation. My spirit, in response to the issues I was attempting to deal with, was one of humor. It was also something you could adjust through recognition.

I felt a strange sense of warmth in my midsection that spread to my extremities. I had been stricken by doubt. There was none in this realization at all. Later I would come to understand that it was a result of inner silence. When Sam was talking I had to work through my own thoughts and prejudices. My insight into the spirit held no such reservations.

It was perhaps the first time I recalled knowing something without question. Sam would later describe it as seeing. Suddenly the idea of my approaching my life as art took on new relevance. It was possible through the recognition of the spirit in which I acted.

I lay still for a moment marveling at this silent understanding.

After my initial surprise had subsided, my thoughts simply carried on where they had left off. I could not help noting the distinction between the thoughts in my head and my realization in regards to the spirit. Unlike that realization, my thoughts could find little purchase.

It took me a moment to realize that although my mental chatter had started again, the noise from the kitchen had ceased. I decided to confront my doubt with what I had at hand. That simply happened to be Sam.

I rose from the couch to find Sam staring out the window. As if on cue, he turned to meet my gaze. The corners of his mouth turned up as he appraised me.

"And how is my tenant at the moment." I really had no idea what he saw when he looked me over in that manner.

Not for the last time during my stay with Sam, I decided to keep my insight to myself. Sam had said that a sorcerer's journey is the journey home. Later in life I would realize that much like the journey home, privacy is something you could strive towards, even if it were not entirely possible to attain.

That divided sensation was present once again. My insight was solid. My internal dialogue, on the other hand, was not as nowhere near as stable.

"I guess I could use some advice."

He raised his eyebrows and then joined me in the living room. I took my seat on the couch while he got re-acquainted with his chair.

"I find myself in a rather awkward situation, Sam. How on earth am I supposed to function if there is an aspect of myself that will actively work against me? I really do not know what to think about what you call the social body. How do I know what is me?"

Sam chuckled quietly. "It is all you. The social body that you know is simply a product of those you have associated with. Until you arrived on my doorstep that was all you knew. I am simply introducing you to a different aspect of yourself."

That was not the response I had expected at all.

"Why would I work to my own detriment?"

My mental state made my tone sharper than I would have liked.

"A simple fact of life is that adversity promotes growth. If you are going to be a good friend to someone, offer them conflict. You are a world before you are a man. You are an individual before you are a member of society. You simply need to consider the social part of yourself a close, personal friend."

"Why would a friend of mine work to undermine a relationship with someone I love?"

"Would you consider the possibility that it was so that the two of us could meet?"

In all honesty I would have preferred Sara.

"I am certain some part of you wanted nothing more than to take comfort in those around you. You made your choice, and as a result, you are now here with me. If you had stayed in town, the result would have been dramatically different. Every expression embodies its own conflict. A sorcerer is a ghost, in plain sight and yet hidden from view. The conflict a sorcerer engenders is beneficial. The social body is a challenge that I am facing alongside you. If you and I succeed? If you and I succeed we will be ghosts ourselves."

Despite my recent flight I was not about leave my friends and family. I came to yet another realization. When I had been driving out of town I wondered how far you had to drive to escape yourself. If the animal had not crossed my path, I would have spent my time alone, in a different cabin.

I was to wonder if the animal had caused the conflict that I was presently experiencing.

"Well if the social body exists, where the hell is it?" Apparently I had already found the spirit. In that case it was one of belligerence. In response to my question Sam offered a smile.

"Your social body exists in the eyes of your friends and family. I did not invite them in." Sam paused a moment before continuing. "When you arrived on my doorstep I gave you a new name. I told you I would write you a new ticket, one more compatible with sorcery. 'Al' holds that ticket, and it is the result of an agreement between you and me." That division was still present, only this time one part of myself was the senile old man, asking Sam for directions. "Your social body is simply the body you have developed through your interaction with other members of society. It is important that you realize you also developed a foreign body in regards to your ex-girlfriend."

Sam broke into a broad grin.

"The ancient Greek maxim, 'Know Thyself' can be construed as a warning not to pay attention to the opinions of the masses. It requires self-acceptance. In order to acquire self-acceptance, one must first achieve self-awareness. The odd thing is that you will only come to a true understanding of yourself by carefully observing those you associate with. That being said, we all have many faces. You and I are simply developing a new one. You are both an investment and my means of repaying a debt. Think about it like this. I removed myself from society, and since a balance must be maintained, you are what I am investing in in order to give something back."

He caught my eyes with a steady gaze.

"Do you invest in the stock market?" He asked.

I really did not have much in the way of savings, nor anything that I truly wished to invest in.

"In a physical sense, the easiest way to identify the social body is by observing the stock market. The social body sets the price of gold. Some members of society will invest thinking the price will rise, while others will sell expecting it to fall. One will make money while the other loses. A balance is always maintained. The price of gold is the easiest way to see the manifestation of the social body at work."

I considered this for a moment in silence. Sara had been worth more to me than any precious metal. I had lost her just the same.

"I simply do not see the relevance of gold in regards to my relationship." And I knew I was lying. Sam had not brought up Sara, I had. I could only wonder who she was spending time with now.

It hurt more than I could say.

"I told you that gain and loss are only present in regards to the right side. A sorcerer courts the left, while carefully tending the fields on the other side of the fence. The physical body is the right side in relation to the surrounding environment. Society is to the right in regards to the individual. Every time one moves to the right, the result is a more refined, concentrated manifestation of specific qualities found to the left. I have an agreement with my fellow man in regards to my property. That agreement must be respected. That being said, should I give up eternity for the esteem of my fellow man? Should I piss on the both the world and myself in order to climb the social ladder? In the end you are my investment, and I give back what I have taken through you."

We both fell silent for a time. I knew that he was not referring to money.

"Your social body is an investment that involves your awareness, your actions, and your choices in regards to those you associate with. Your actions and your resulting awareness are assets one can cultivate. Different people place value on different things. You have the freedom to shape your awareness in any manner you choose. That is priceless."

In regards to the demise of my relationship, I realized that I had made a poor investment. It was something I would consider carefully as time went on. Sara would have been worth far more in the end.

The pain of my loss was poignant once again, tempered only by the presence of the individual before me. I had not found comfort in the eyes of those I had known. When I justified my behavior during my first real talk with Sam, I had been laughed at. Why did I find his presence comforting? I realized that if I had offered Sara the same thing that Sam was offering me, we would still be together. I also realized that I only knew Sam as a result of my loss. I had left town in search of answers. It was possible that those answers would not have been found in the solitude of Frank's cabin. I looked up to see Sam observing me silently.

He held my attention and broke the silence.

"I told you that there are two people in any one relationship." Sam continued. "That is a crucial point. People involved in relationships have a tendency to point the finger. There is only ever one relationship. How could either party involved be right or wrong?"

"I get it now, Sam." And with that admission I realized that my acceptance of a new ticket was complete. "When I was with Sara she wound up involved with a different man."

And I was someone else entirely in Sam's company, complete with a different name.

"Why is it necessary to live so far removed from town?" I wanted to know.

"The human race is the dominant species on the planet. The lack of physical predators in regards to humanity leaves us blindfolded. Animals are always attentive. Most people are not."

His expression was one of disgust.

"I do not need to choose between fifty different bottles of shampoo, nor do I need to make waste with every single serving of coffee I make for myself. Living in that environment would require my agreement, and as a creature who is conscious and aware, I would be offering my agreement if I chose to remain. That is not an option for me."

To be honest the single serve coffee machine that we had at work was wasteful even to me, and I did not consider myself all that green.

"What is offered is freedom. In response we wear chains as status symbols. I find it abhorrent. Life could take any form we choose. I have made my choice. I will not squander my potential. You must simply make your own choice in that regard."

He caught my eyes once again and held my attention.

"In the end, the only thing that matters is you. Why not consider yourself art? The life I live is sustainable, and therefore I have a future. The vast majority of your fellow man are debtors. They mortgage the next twenty years of their lives, if they do in fact live that long, for a house that is to large, for a fancy car they do not need, all provided by work at a job that serves no true purpose. It is like a horror movie without violence or true conflict of any kind. They return home at the end of the day, after performing the same, mindless, repetitive task, and feed their dog when they get home. Which animal is smarter?"

Sam cleared his throat.

"In the end, the best I can do for my fellow man is by following my own spirit and living by example. One must start at home. We are all part of the universe, and as part of the universe, I make my contribution by living a life I believe in. I also contribute through you."

For a moment my previous mood resurfaced and I saw Sam, once again in suspenders and sunglasses, hanging out on the porch and having a deep conversation with a crow. I could not help but smile. The conversation they would have had eluded me. Sam caught my smile and raised his eyebrows in askance. I shook my head, feeling a little foolish.

"How do I establish my own social body?" I could not exactly leave my job, and I knew that although I was a guest at the moment, I could not live with Sam.

"A sorcerer cultivates inner silence. Most people have an internal dialogue that runs ceaselessly. One's mind is shared property, much like the planet. Your feet are your own. Language is a bridge for communication between two individuals. Inner silence is the bridge between you and your personal landscape. The left side is ruled by what sorcerers call intent. The right side is the spoken word. When you speak, understand that much like your spirit, your words are a rarified, more refined expression of your own being, that your intent is the truth when you speak, and that it should be your goal to express that truth to the best of your ability."

Throughout my relationships I had always tried to see who was in the right, and who was not. I was thinking about his assertion that a relationship was a single entity.

How do you speak the truth for others? For some odd reason a memory surfaced. I will admit I am fond of the fairer sex. I was a little lonely at one point and signed up on a dating website. When a girl responded I asked her why she had chosen me. Her answer baffled me. My response to the question, 'Are you self-aware?' was no. I did not really understand the question.

She told me she had called me because I my response was no.

Even after my breakup, some piece of my heart would always be Sara's. Having said that? The best sex I ever had was with that girl.

Unfortunately, that relationship was had been rather short-lived.

I told Sam about the girl, and in response, he raised his eyebrows in approval.

"The eyes are meant to observe ones surroundings, not to see reflections in a mirror. True self-awareness means observing both your surroundings and those you associate without judgment or personal bias. That, much like speaking the truth, is yet another way to cultivate the social body. It is probably why the young lady liked your response."

That girl had been cute, in her own way.

"To the left of the individual is the environment. Your eyes are there to observe both other people and the environment we share. To the right of the physical body one finds the social body, and what most consider the mind." Sam rapped his knuckles on the side of his head. "My mind is empty. At the moment my thoughts are the product of both you and my humble home. As I have said, when one moves to the right the result is a smaller, though more refined, expression."

I was confused.

"How could society possibly be smaller than the individual?" I wanted to know.

"There are a myriad of emotions and thoughts that one simply does not express in social situations. The trick is to find an honest, but suitable response to those you know. Always remember that it is one relationship. You said you were filled with doubt. I harbor no such doubt. A sorcerer understands that his true mind is an expression of the environment itself. The mind you know is a foreign installation. It is shared property, not yours and yours alone."

At that moment I knew it well enough to be not overly fond of it. I considered my realization in regards to the spirit, in contrast to the doubt and confusion of the thoughts I had come to know so well over the years.

As opposed to Sam's mind, my own was quite full.

"Well it certainly is not doing me much good at the moment." I will admit I was not overly pleased with it at that moment.

"The mind of a sentient being is where free will comes from. A thought is, in essence, something that is 'not,' although it is always a possibility. Consider the mind for a moment. You are bored at home. You are tired of playing your guitar, and think to yourself, 'Hey, I should go see a movie.' At that moment, are you going to go see a movie or not?"

Sam appraised me while I considered.

"I suppose it would depend on whether anything good was playing."

"Let's say you check the movie listings and there is some comedy that intrigues you. One of your friends has seen it and said it was very funny."

"Alright, I am guess I am going to go see a movie."

"It is necessary to realize is that prior to the thought, you were not going to go see a movie. Your thought is a manifestation of free will. It is the mind that makes creativity possible, as well as possibilities which had not existed previously. It is also something that is 'not' until the thought is actualized. The mind also acts as the prison cell created by an aberrant Tonal. You exercise your free will when you decide that 'yes!' you are going to go see a movie. It is the decision to go see the movie that makes it a reality. Animals do not suffer the same problem. They do not make choices in such a manner. A thought is a possibility that did not previously exist."

Sam let silence settle for a moment before making his declaration.

"I am."

And I did not doubt him at all.

Sam looked me over once again before continuing.

"I will tell you a secret. It is possible to actually create your own identity by exercising that very freedom. Most people are tormented by an internal dialogue that runs ceaselessly through their mind. What a waste. If language is a bridge between two individuals, why would one ever talk to oneself? They call it lost in thought. 'I think therefore I am.'" Sam snorted in derision. "What it is necessary to realize, is that when you dwell in your mind, you are exercising a different right altogether. You are opting out of your own existence. Free will is an example of something which is both a gift, and a curse."

He caught my eyes, and for some reason my silent realization in regards to the spirit surfaced once again. I had the strangest impression that while I was looking at Sam, I was looking into something very different than a mirror.

I was reminded of him at the door, demanding to know what I was selling. The memory made me smile.

"You asked me during one of our conversations if sorcery was a form of magic. Yes, sorcery is magic. Sorcery is life." He leaned close and lowered his voice in a confidential manner. "Do you want to know how to do magic, Al?'

I was very suspicious. I certainly did not want a repeat of his sleight of hand.

"How do you move your finger?" He raised his hand and waggled his index finger back and forth to show me that he knew how.

And I had no idea. Sam continued in the same tone of voice, as if letting me in on a conspiracy.

"There is no true magic in the universe, Al. Maybe something you come across during your day elicits a smile. Perhaps you go to a horror movie and experience a moment of terror. Maybe you see something touching which brings a tear to your eye."

Sam's eyes were dark.

"That smile? That tear? A brief moment of terror? Those are examples of the true magic of life. You will not live a day of your life without being subjected to that very magic. Life is an agreement, Al. For some reason the participants generally feel cheated. Why, I really do not know."

Unfortunately, life happens.

Silence fell between us for a time. I experienced an intimacy within the cabin that was no different than that which I had experienced on the porch the day before.

Eventually Sam cleared his throat and finished things up for the afternoon.

"There are people who believe in intelligent design. A sorcerer would agree. The universe is most definitely intelligent. Intelligence is the ability to learn and adapt, to grow and develop, and to evolve in regards to ones surroundings. The universe wants to know who you are. The motive of life is to become consciously self-aware. You are not a separate entity, you are part of the universe yourself. A sorcerer embodies a state that which sorcerers call the blue-cat. This cabin, which cradles your attention, is part of the universe, and in regards to your awareness, it is the whole universe. It is all about you. Your friends back home are part of it as well, enjoying their own company, in the comfort of their own homes."

He looked at me with a penetrating gaze.

"The universe simply wants to know who we are. We gain true self-awareness by observing others. The universe always gets an answer when it asks who you are. Will you consciously take your life in hand and participate, or will you let others answer that question for you?"

Sometimes a question is posed without need of an answer. Sam's question was one example.

Intent

After having quiet lunch Sam and I sat at the kitchen table and talked. I was eager to continue our discussion about sorcery, but Sam did not seem so inclined. Our idle conversation continued for quite some time, and eventually I wound up talking about my work and how I felt about it. I made good money at the post office, though I could hardly say that I enjoyed the work. Sam was an attentive listener and I found myself sharing the way I approached a shift.

Years ago I discovered an effective way to deal with an eight hour day. I broke an eight hour shift into pieces, which I called the milestones. My first milestone occurred four hours into my shift. The second milestone was reached two hours afterwards; six hours into my day. The last milestone was an hour later. All that remained was another hour and my shift was finished. For some reason I was a little self-conscious as I shared this with Sam, but he simply nodded in approval.

Sam took it as an opportunity to return to the topic of sorcery.

"You have developed an approach that makes the day seem shorter and shorter as it progresses. The patterns that compose the universe are repeated throughout. Your milestone technique is a great example. As I have said, the universe is composed of two fundamental currents of energy. The manner in which you approach work either works, and the day progresses faster and faster as it goes by, or eight hours is eight hours. They cannot both be true."

I thought about what Sam had said about light working both as either a wave or a particle, dependent on the manner in which it was observed.

"Yeah, I know, Sam." My technique worked well for me. I also realized that I was not really looking forward to going back to work.

"People have a tendency to squander their potential, and then claim other things to which they have no right. It is done in an effort to avoid responsibility." Sam continued. "The other day I told you that the world is beautiful when one is happy, and a horrible place when one depressed. It is also true that the world does not change according to ones moods. An eight hour shift can be a difficult thing to get through. Your milestone technique is an effective way to deal with your day. The manner in which you approach a shift effects your experience during a day at work."

"You say we lay claim to other things. What do you mean?" Sam's approval of my milestone technique made me feel less self-conscious, and I was curious to know where this was heading.

"Two thousand years ago people thought that it was witches and demons that made people ill. Everyone knows that demons are ten feet tall, bright red in color, sporting hooves and horns. That being said, very few people have ever seen a demon. Nowadays we know the truth of the matter. It is germs and viruses that make people ill. We have replaced our priests in black with doctors clad in white. The consistency is that once again invisible nastiest are making us ill. Have you ever seen a germ?"

I had to shake my head in response.

"We look back at people two thousand years ago, living on their flat earth, with all the heavens revolving around them, and we laugh. We congratulate each other and pat each other on the back, glorying in our growth and knowledge. The funny thing is that two thousand years from now, people will look back at us, living on our flat planet, frantically sterilizing our hands at every opportunity, and they will laugh and laugh."

I had to smile at Sam's animated storytelling.

"The only real question is how big the invisible creatures that will be making us sick two thousand years from now will be. In the end nothing really changes."

At that moment Sam was looking at me with an odd expression, which I will admit made me nervous. I avoided asking the obvious question about size.

"We have a tendency to believe that everything is about us. It is actually true in a sense, though not in the manner we like to imagine."

"How could everything be about me?" Sam burst out laughing.

"It is your awareness, of course. How could it not? We each have a personal connection to the spirit, Al. You are the center of the universe. I happen to be the center of my own universe as well. When you leave here I will remain. Your world will depart along with your physical body."

I was confused. I had a strange vision. This time it was of the same white rabbit, once again bespectacled and carrying a watch, fleeing frantically from a large blue cat.

It was bizarre. I was momentarily worried that I was going to suffer another mental lapse, but the vision vanished as quickly as it had come.

I briefly pondered the relevance of the blue-cat. I had no doubt that my surroundings were part of the universe. I suppose I was part of it as well.

I would be leaving in a few days and would have find a place of my own. I promised myself it would be a new start.

Sam caught my attention and raised his eyebrows expressively.

"Some people claim that women are the root of all evil. It is a simple fact that each and every one of us start out female."

This time I was the one to burst out laughing. I thought he was pulling my leg.

"So once upon a time, I was a girl?"

Sam nodded solemnly. "I am sorry, but I am quite serious. In the first stage of fetal development we are all female. It is why men have nipples. After the fetus gets to a certain stage of development, a decision is made, and the ovaries drop, becoming balls."

Sam made grabbed his crotch in a rather lewd gesture which embarrassed me to no end.

"Women are the root of all evil." Sam snorted derisively. "As I said, we have a tendency to claim things that simply are not true."

If we all start out female I suppose they would have to be the root cause. I decided that I would have to take his word for it. The strange part of me that had the vision of the rabbit and the blue cat was wondering what I would have looked like as a girl.

"The weather is another good example. I am quite certain that you are of the aware of the fact that the weather can affect ones mood. A sunny day puts people in a better frame of mind."

I considered what Sam had said about a depressed person's emotional state identifying the cause of the depression in the first place.

"I told you that the left side comes first—the goal is the right side. To the left one finds the environment. Certainly if you are feeling blue you might look outside to see and see it raining. Your emotional state probably did not cause the rain."

Sam raised an eyebrow and appraised me with a smile.

"People want to believe that their emotional state affect's the world around them. That is true in regards to the 'World of Appearances.' Life is an embodiment of the right side. It is an agreement. We hold an agreement with our environment as well. The responsibility for one's emotional state ultimately resides within oneself. Despite that reality, the blame is generally projected onto others."

At that moment the full weight of my breakup washed over me. For a moment I was desperately afraid I would burst into tears. Sam took a look at me and excused himself gracefully, vanishing into his room for a while I attempted to take responsibility for my loss.

I was left to my own devices for a while.

Sam rejoined me after I managed to get a grip on my emotional state. Our conversation continued as it had begun earlier in the day, with Sam asking me questions about myself and those I associated with. Perhaps in an attempt to avoid my own loss, I found myself discussing a friend who had been involved in a very bad relationship. The girl was living with someone else, although she continued seeing my friend anyway. The result was that the other guy wound up breaking my friend's door down and confronting him physically. The police had wound up getting involved.

Sam nodded in agreement.

"The relationship we are discussing is an excellent example of what sorcerers refer to as intent. It is the ruling force of the universe, as well as a function of the left side."

"What does intent have to do with my friend's relationship, Sam?"

"If the spirit is the manner in which one acts, the intent of something is the end result. When we speak, it is our words which carry our intent. It is a vital topic because what life is, in essence, is a form of communication."

"I got the feeling from our discussions that you did not approve of language all that much." I commented.

Sam shook his head emphatically.

"It is not that I do not like language, it is simply that people place so much emphasis on the spoken word that the intent is often lost. Your words are a refinement of your own personal experience. They should be chosen carefully."

I thought about my own revelation in regards to the spirit. I had realized that my spirit was the manner in which I approached a situation, which was slightly different than what Sam had said about my body being my spirit. It was body language after all.

"I told you that existence is, in essence, impersonal. The friend of yours who is having trouble with his girlfriend is an excellent example. If you step back and look at the situation, you see that both of the people that she is involved with are in trouble. That, in the end, is her intent. Maybe your friend loves her. It is entirely possible that the other guy does as well. An objective observer has an easier time witnessing intent at work. It is more difficult to take responsibility and witness one's own. I suggest that when you get back home, you listen and observe those around you carefully. Identify the intent of people by observing their effect on those around them. The best form of worship, regardless of ones beliefs, is the simple the act of paying attention. It is your awareness—your art if you will. Why waste it?"

Sam paused for a moment before continuing on the topic of intent.

"Your physical being is the vessel which carries the intent of the universe, much like your words are the vessels which carry your own intent. The universe provides many competing expressions throughout existence with the intent of gaining self-awareness. When the discord between those competing expressions is resolved, the universe acquires self-awareness as a result of the outcome."

Sam took a moment before continuing.

"Intent is silent, though it can be heard in any conversation, regardless of the words being spoken. Many people simply say and do the right thing because they think that it's the right thing to do. Those words and actions are at best hollow, and at worst, the intent is contrary to what is being said. Your words should attempt to convey your intent to the best of your ability. What is the point of saying something you do not truly feel, other than to find out if those you are conversing with are paying attention? As I have said, the universe is struggling for self-awareness, so right and wrong do not really matter, what matters in the end is you. You can observe your own intent at work by objectively observing your effect on others."

I took a moment to think about this. Sam did not intrude. When I looked up at him he continued.

"You are a world before you are a man. It is a big world, you are but one individual. You have been alive over twenty years, and have experienced a great deal. Your words are merely a sliver of those experiences. I have the utmost respect for language, because it is the individual's choice to interpret those experiences as they will. We refer to body language as if it is saying something, and it most certainly does. The truth lies in the intent, which is the force that drives life itself. Listening to what the world says is the key to self-awareness, even if the conversation is the appearance of the individual before you."

For some reason I found myself self-conscious about my appearance. I really cannot say where the emotion came from. I could only wonder what my own cloths, and more importantly my appearance, were saying about who I was.

And I found myself offended for some reason.

"I am quite certain that if everyone had a choice, we would all be beautiful, well dressed millionaires, Sam."

Sam looked at me with a smile.

"Everyone does have a choice. The right side operates through agreement. The intent of any situation is the end result. The end result of your own situation is the conversation we are presently having. We are all who we are by choice. Accepting that simple reality is difficult."

Sam looked at me calmly. I was still offended for some reason.

"If everyone agreed with everyone else, then absolutely nothing would ever happen." Was Sam's contribution.

I was feeling frustrated and out of my depth. As I have said, I have never been a deep thinker. Perhaps my intent was shown through my response.

"You said that the left side includes everyone. If we were all one then nothing would ever happen either."

To my surprise Sam burst out laughing. His laughter expressed his approval.

"You are quite correct, Al."

In that case it was Sam's agreement that surprised me. I took a few moments to let my thoughts settle. I did not consider myself beautiful by any means, but I never had any problem meeting women. Some of my friends had a harder time of it, and we teased them mercilessly.

I was once again feeling self-conscious, but I could not identify the cause. For some reason Sam's agreement served only to make me more so.

"So you're telling me that an ugly person has an ugly spirit?"

Sam's amusement vanished as quickly as it had come. He looked at me with flinty eyes.

"I am sorry, Al. That was not a question I asked when this was explained to me." Sam's eyes were once again dark as he looked me over.

"Well thank God you're an attractive man, eh?"

He snorted and began laughing again. He did not seem inclined to explain any further. For some reason I felt completely lost. Sam continued laughing, and I could only wonder what I missed. When he quieted he shared something that I will never forget.

"The Tonal of man is aberrant, Al. It is why I suggest honesty in your dealings with others. We are all who we are by agreement. If you were to ask a thousand people if they were happy with their situation, what would they say?"

I thought about Sara. I knew my own answer to that question. Who was he to judge?

What I failed to realize was that I was judging myself, and simply projecting my own judgment upon him. In the end, I would come to realize that judging was the furthest thing from what he was doing.

Sam simply met my gaze with an amused expression. I wanted to avoid his question for some reason.

"I don't know, Sam."

"We are who we are by choice. That is fundamental to the sorcerer's path. I will leave it at that."

"You are insinuating that everyone is where they want to be. What about a prostitute selling who is selling herself for crack. Are they where they want to be?" I was angry.

"Going to work for eight hours a day at a job one does not enjoy, and then coming home alone to sit in front of the television for five hours before bed, is unappealing to some. It is unappealing for very good reasons, if you ask me. Nobody is forced to drink or do drugs. Maybe some prostitutes like sex." Sam put his hand to his head in a gesture of mock dismay. "Oh! The horror. Living on the street, with your only thought being about how to get next fix, along with all the inherent danger involved in the lifestyle? It is exiting."

I found I had nothing to say. I had come up with the milestone technique to deal with the monotony of an endless row of mailboxes.

Male prostitute was not on my wish list. I still could not accept that it was a choice.

"A woman in an abusive relationship often suffers the same problem. What you must understand the woman in that relationship is that it is exiting. The woman never knows what the man is going to do next. There is life in the relationship, which is unfortunately often a result of the abuse."

I wondered how many people would could truly say that they were where they wanted to be if I took a survey. I imagined very few would. Despite my mood, I realized that there was something wrong.

We pride ourselves on freedom, after all.

Silence fell between us for a time. My anger had subsided. I was not one of those people who considered themselves a victim. Sam was obviously not so inclined either.

"As people we generally live in fear of people seeing who we really are. We feel both guilt and shame as a result of our person. We define ourselves in regards to one another, so there is nothing to feel guilty about in the end. Once again it is the social body at work. Whether you are a saint or a sinner, an angel or a demon, you are who you are. What on earth is there to be afraid of?"

The simplicity of Sam's comment surprised me. My next question was not asked in anger, but out of curiosity.

"Can we change who we are, Sam?" I will admit I sounded small for some reason.

"Only through acceptance, Al."

And maybe he was right. Sam cleared his throat, not allowing me to wallow in self-pity. I suppose if Sam was correct there was no reason for self-pity anyway.

"Our discussion for the afternoon is about intent. I have shared with you the motive of the universe, would you like to know the intent?"

Sam's eyes were bright as he regarded me.

"Sure, Sam." The self-pity bowed before curiosity.

"The universe want you to be the best person you can possibly be. If you work in accordance with it, that result is inevitable. You need to realize that the universe is a live, active, responsive participant. It will actively guide and assist the individual in question, if one only pays attention. The result is inevitable."

"What do you mean, Sam?"

"The experience of one moment is the cumulative result of every experience that proceeded it. We are all omniscient, in a limited sense, due to that very fact. If ones awareness is a result of everything which has come before, then an individual is in possession of everything one requires. It requires both self-acceptance and faith in oneself. If you are an angel watching a horror movie which has a rape scene in it, the active universe may respond to your displeasure and let you know that you do not find the scene appropriate. A little devil watching the same scene might have a different response altogether."

I really did not consider myself an angel.

"You talk about the universe as if it is alive."

"It is alive, and it evolves along with all of its participants. It is why sorcery, or the study of awareness, is an abstract science. Everyone's awareness is different. We have all had different thoughts and emotions in regards to what we have experienced. The study of awareness must therefore be abstract as a result. I told you that the best form of worship is the simple act of paying attention to ones surroundings. If you pay attention, the active universe will guide you in accordance with your own personality. The choice to listen is a choice as well."

That morning I had made my choice to take Sam seriously. Before the coyote had made its call, Sam explained to me that we were not listening to ourselves, and that that was the true tragedy of our existence. I had consider the possibility that he was correct. I sat silently for a moment considering. What I found in my own thoughts and emotions surprised me. Part of me actually hated Sam. A different aspect of myself was calmly considering what Sam was saying. Who could say that they did not want to be the best they could be?

I looked at the hateful part of myself in disgust. I did not understand why Sam telling me I was omniscient, if only in a limited sense, elicited such an emotional response.

Later I would realize that it had to do with the concept of responsibility.

Sam let the silence settle between us. If it was truly all me, and I had agreed to feel the way I felt, I realized that something had to change.

I had known that on my way out of town anyway.

"I know I speak rather negatively about language at times, but language is a beautiful thing. Think about the term 'nursing hurt feelings.'" Sam crossed his arms as if nursing a baby. "Suck little piggy! Suck! Grow fat and strong!"

Sam looked at me with a broad grin, his imaginary pig still at his breast. His expression was so comical I could not help but laugh.

"You can consider the story we tell in life our art. As an individual, one is free to process one's life experience any way one chooses. You can tell your story way you want. The spirit is the motions one goes through to accomplish an end. The intent is the goal which is inevitably realized. You are an example of the intent of the universe. Together, spirit and intent tell a story. The manner in which our intent is realized is up to the universe itself."

Sam looked like he was about to go on, and then let out a sigh. Once again, that lopsided smile was present.

"Like my teacher before me I am reminded once again of the limitation of language. It is why inner silence is the bridge between you and your personal landscape. Let's take a break. You need to go further and find a place where you can experience both intent and silent knowledge for yourself. My voice, much like that of your fellow man, will not help much at all."

He looked out the window at the cool winter evening with a speculative expression on his face. For some reason the memory of my personal realization in regards to the spirit rose again.

"I think you should leave the winter behind and go somewhere warmer. It is a journey you can only make through intent."

Summer was two seasons away, and even if my vehicle was on the road, I could only think that it would be a very long drive indeed. I would find that my skepticism was simply another fart in the wind.

The Gate

Christmas Eve progressed without theory. Our conversation was relaxed and idle. One aspect of myself was lulled by the inconsequential. The other part of me took the time to think about what I had gone through in Sam's company. Due to my recent experiences I had learned to respect for Sam's theories. That respect would carry over to the beliefs of others upon my return home. When I thought about my vision of the tree I found the experience difficult to hold onto.

Time has a tendency to blur even the most profound, but as Sam had said, it was the introduction which had relevance.

I found I enjoyed Sam's odd view of reality. The story that Sam had shared with me described an active reality, one that responded to those in question. The idea that the universe was struggling to become self-aware was as strange as Sam's suggestion to gain insight into myself by observing others.

When we did not return to the topic of sorcery as the evening progressed I was a little disappointed. My conversational leads yielded little.

Our time was well spent regardless.

I was considering turning in for the evening when Sam surprised me by resuming the topic of the day.

"For the vast majority of humanity the Tonal reigns. We believe that every answer can be offered in the form of words, and therefore pay little attention to the intent behind those words. It should be noted that our surrounding environment offers the only answers of true relevance. Despite a sorcerer's knowledge of the Nagual, our reliance on language is a simple trap to find one-self in. Words are easily spoken, while active observation requires effort as well as intent."

He fell silent before continuing.

"When a child is in the developmental phase a parent or teacher might point to a clock on the wall and make the sound we associate it—'clock.' When the Tonal reigns one accepts that the object on the wall is that noise. It is not. A noise is just a noise. When you return home set some goals and realize that setting a goal is worthy, but the intent to follow through carries more weight."

Sam paused for a moment before continuing.

"I am not discounting language, I simply you to understand the reality of the environment. We could make any sound we damn well please. If people were in agreement, that sound would be just as valid. The clock remains the same despite the sound we use to represent it. Language is the bridge between people. Religion is a bridge between your physicality and the spirit."

Sam looked at me with a grin. "Which language is the 'correct' language, do you think."

It took me a moment to realize he was kidding. When he described language as the bridge between two people, I could only wonder about my own internal dialogue. Who the hell was I talking too?

"I guess you could also ask which skin color is 'correct.'" I commented. Sam smiled in response.

"Good point. A mixed race couple can still conceive a child, however, so the agreement is still there. The African spirit is a little different than that of a white individual. The universe is at once impersonal, and very personal at the same time. Our strength lies in our diversity. What we believe we believe by choice. The unfortunate thing is that most people are not truly cognizant of their own beliefs. When one loses the idea of truth, and comes to the understanding that what we believe is a choice? Somehow when you leave the 'truth' behind, that very choice becomes all the more profound."

At that point in time Sam's point was lost on me.

"You are still a creature whose Tonal holds the day, and therein the problem. You must first understand that your own expression is unique. There is no 'correct' language. That is ridiculous. Perhaps you are one of those people who think a tree is irrelevant unless it is cut into lumber. An environmentalist will feel very different. In the end it is a choice."

I had always enjoyed nature, and I did not consider myself part of the group that only saw the value of a tree as lumber. Then again, at that point I did not consider myself all that green. Maybe it was simply an issue that did not concern me all that much, but as I considered my decision in regards to Sam's methodology, I realized that not making a choice was a choice just the same. It was something I would think about upon my return home.

Sam went on.

"The aberrant Tonal of humanity sees only its own reflection. We accept that our clocks are correct, and when daylight savings time comes around it is an irritation we carefully ignore. Every few years we simply decide to add another day. It would not surprise me in the least to see a clockmaker approach the sun and tell the sun that it is a simply a little off. It could not, of course, be the clock. It could not be the calendar."

He donned his actors robe, this time emerging an uptight white man with a nasal voice who was severely irritated with the sun's lack of precision. I burst out laughing as he carried on. When my laughter subsided Sam's expression once again turned serious.

"What one lacks when talking is a connection to one's inner landscape. The Tonal is agreement. The environment communicates without words, and our agreement with it is both silent and physical. To the right of my body is my voice. To the left of my body is the environment. Life is subjective by nature. Our focus is generally on the person across from us. Our environment is not as noisy. It provides life, and therefore has no need for a crown. It is content, for the most part, to let us distract ourselves. We are all children of mother earth, whom I refer to as Gaia. At the very same time, each and every one of us has a connection with something you could describe as above or below. Everybody is different."

If our conversation was a distraction it was a welcome one. Sam's animated behavior and the shadows from his vast array of candles were a memory that would remain with me for life.

"Your connection with the spirit is a personal one. That being said, if you are to understand the value of intent and silent knowledge, they are things you must experience for yourself. There is really nothing more to say."

I remembered my own, silent realization in regards to the spirit, and the certainty inherent in that realization. Sam was looking at me calmly, waiting for a response.

"And how would I gain firsthand experience, Sam?"

"True thoughts and ideas generally arise from specific places. You would have to travel to a place that fosters silent knowledge. That is the best course of action for firsthand knowledge."

It was late and I was getting tired. Despite my curiosity I was not really prepared to go out.

"It is late, Sam. I am not really in the mood to go anywhere." Sam ignored my complaint.

"I am sure you have heard the cannon... 'row row row your boat,' on occasion. The relevance can be debated if one desires. The point could be to row, and keep on rowing. The point might be to be merry. Perhaps the reality is that life is but a dream. You must experience your own truth." Sam smiled. "The spirit is movement; intent is the end result. I simply want you to use your connection to the spirit with the intent of experiencing silent knowledge. Remember that intent is the end result."

"Alright..." I was really not sure where this was heading.

"Do you like the painting?" He pointed to the one above the fireplace.

"Is that one of yours as well?"

"Yes, in more ways than one. I built that as an anchor. It is centered in a place of silent knowledge."

I thought he was referring to the painting itself. Sam corrected my assumption.

"I painted that after the stones were put in place. I went to that very location and built the monolith, with a little help of course. It was only after it was complete that I painted that monolith. That is a very special location, as it is a spot which complements silent knowledge. Any further discussion would simply confuse the issue. You need firsthand experience, which you will have if you travel to that location."

"And how do I accomplish that, Sam?"

At my question he went strange. He began to talk but no sound emerged. He looked horribly frustrated. He tried again to no avail. His expression was truly apologetic. He rose silently, leaving me on the couch. I heard him pull his boots and coat on and then exit the cabin.

I was alone with a painting and another strange task.

When Sam had introduced me to his little tree I had received some basic instructions on how to proceed. This time I had received none. I sat on the couch looking at the painting. Sam seemed to think that I could actually travel to the monolith depicted in his painting. After losing my mind I came to the conclusion that I had to take the beliefs of others seriously.

That being said, I really had no idea how to proceed.

I decided to make myself comfortable, and thought about what he had said over the course of the day. I considered what he had said about intent. I lay down on the couch and settled in. The only sound was that of the wood in the fire. Above the mantle lay my destination. The painting itself was of an open field on a summer day. The monolith reminded me of a gate. Where it led I really did not know.

Taking lead from my experience with the Nagual, I let my mind fall silent and focused on the painting. I spent a great deal of time simply staring, yet it yielded no result. Time passed and my frustration grew.

My task seemed ridiculous.

I had absolutely no idea how to proceed. I kept my eyes on the painting and went over what Sam had said about inner silence. He had said it was a place of knowledge without words. I considered my own realization in regards to the spirit. My eyes were on the painting, but my inner voice, possibly due to my frustration, had started up again. I started picking at Sam's argument. Sam had said on one occasion that there was no such thing as progress. He told me that the world was consistent story, and that the only thing that changed was the storyteller. He had also said that in essence, although different styles came and went, nothing truly changes.

And yet, we had sent men to the moon.

We had sent men to the moon and now I was trying to enter a painting. To be honest I had no idea which mission was more valid.

The painting held my attention as my mind wandered. Something else Sam had said was bothering me. I could not fathom how you could operate without asking questions. How was that possible? As I posed this question to myself another realization crystallized.

Sam had described a state that lacked the question why. I was now struggling with how to visit a painting on the wall. I thought about him asking me how I moved my finger. Perhaps neither question was valid in regards Sam's request.

With my sudden intuition something changed. My focus was still on the painting, but I experienced an odd sense of vertigo. I felt like I was sinking slowly into the couch. The sensation was rather pleasant to be honest.

I drifted deeper. I really have no idea when I lost my view of the painting. The vertigo continued and at some point my vision faded. I felt as if I had entered a cocoon.

When I emerged I was somewhere else entirely.

It took me a moment to adjust to my surroundings. The scene was familiar. I was in front of the apartment I had fled upon leaving the city. All that remained of the house was the door frame, to which the house number was still attached.

On the other side of the door frame there was not but debris.

I experienced a wave of sadness at the loss. It was as if my entire life had been stripped away. I could not help myself. I took a breath and stepped through the doorway. When I emerged on the other side everything I had lost was present once again. This included Sara, as lovely as ever, waiting for me in the living room. Upon seeing her any sense I had fled utterly. She was in my arms, warm and inviting, welcoming me home.

To this day the memory of my vision haunts me. I will not go into further detail about my experience. All I will say is that time passed the way it does in a dream. For a while I was truly happy.

Despair would manifest in the form of a reflection.

In our apartment we had a mirror which hung on the inside of the door. Sara had me in her arms when I caught a glimpse of it. What I saw there horrified me.

I was alone. The warmth of both Sara and the home we had built was not but an illusion. The mirror revealed the rubble I had seen before stepping through the door. I stared at it, horrified, as my reality sank home.

Everything I had experienced inside my apartment was of my own creation. It was as real as anything else I had ever experienced. When I saw my reflection, both the door and the mirror wavered, and all was misery, debris, and a simple frame which faced the street.

I felt like a shipwreck survivor on the verge of drowning. My surroundings were washed away in a torrent of emotional loss. I felt as if I were dying. I desperately tried to hold onto something—anything.

And the only thing I could find was the image of Sam's painting.

The door frame wavered and dissolved. Once again there was vertigo, yet it was more pronounced this time. I desperately needed to replace my loss with something, and I realized that all I had was my intent. The vertigo subsided and I was facing yet another scene.

It was still not the one I aimed at.

This one was closer to my goal. I was in an open field, much like the scene in the painting, yet instead of a stone monolith there were two large trees. The canopy of the tree's closed in overhead, making yet another doorway. My emotional state adjusted to the landscape.

This time I had a firmer grasp on my goal.

Long after I left Sam's company I would return to this place. I would visit it frequently. At that moment, despite the adjustment, I was still raw from seeing Sara. I did not pass beneath the trees.

I turned my mind to the painting and drifted once again. And once again there was a sensation of vertigo.

When I emerged after my descent I was standing on a field facing the very scene I had intended to visit. I had left both the darkness of the evening and the winter season far behind. The grass was a lush green and the sun was warm on my skin. Ahead of me was the monolith from the painting.

And once again, I could in no way differentiate between what I was experiencing and reality.

My grief was still present, though separate in some way. I looked around, stunned by my success. For the second time since I had met Sam I had left the known behind and achieved something alien to my understanding.

All that was left was to step through the gate.

I braced myself for whatever was about to occur and approached the doorway. I had not passed beneath the two trees. The warmth of my experience with Sara had been replaced by the warmth of a summer's day. After a brief pause before the monolith I stepped through.

And simply wound up on the other side.

At first I thought I had done something wrong. Needless to say, I was more than a little disappointed. Neither the monolith nor the surrounding landscape were moved by my frustration.

I felt cheated for some reason. I had no idea how to proceed so I simply sat down on the grass on the other side and rested against a pillar. My mental state was very strange. I tried to think but could not formulate anything I recognized as a thought.

With nothing else to do I put my back against the monolith and closed my eyes, enjoying the warmth of the sun in a foreign climate.

Sam would tell me that nothing can be forced. If one is receptive one can be the recipient of a different form of information entirely. As I relaxed and took in the sun something within me did just that.

Sam had called it silent knowledge. There is no better way to describe it. And I knew Sam's frustration with language because there is absolutely no way to describe the state in which I arrived.

But one must still make the attempt, clumsy as it may be.

As I lay there I realized the extent of my insignificance, but in the end that was the true significance of my existence. What was offered was freedom, and it was an offer I accepted, though the freedom offered was the result of my own limitations. Absolutely everything in life had meaning, which in the end made everything meaningless. It anything lacked meaning, but if everything in existence had meaning, my own experience had no more meaning than anyone else's.

I knew on the most profound level one can imagine.

What Sam had said about progress was suddenly clear to me. Existence was an eternity, yet present in a fixed amount. It is a puzzle where the pieces can be put together in endless variety, but the pieces themselves would always remain the same.

Without asking, everything was answered. Limited as I was by my condition, I could only soak in a minute fraction of what there was to know. I was limited, but the limits were set by my own being, and therein was the freedom offered.

As I rested against the stone I burst out laughing. This time it was a joyous sound, but I was laughing at myself more than anything else. I had been disappointed when I passed through the gate. My own ignorance was the cause of the laughter. My experience was something which I could only describe as a lucid dream. I was also wide awake. I was enjoying sunshine in a summer climate during the dead of winter, yet I expected a prize upon arrival.

There are no finish lines in life.

What I remember about my time in that state was the other. I was connected to my surroundings like a babe in the womb. Despite this, off to one side, was something completely different.

It was the man who had entered my apartment and spent time with Sara. It was also the person who had had the nervous breakdown the night before. That person was in no way as connected as I was. I could see him clearly. Where I had left the illusion, continued on my way, and arrived at a different truth, he had not. He fluttered like a nervous bird in a cage, desperately trying to escape the reality I was experiencing.

He was also the person I had always known.

Although thought was not possible in that state I also realized something else about my situation. I accepted it with a sense of both loss and determination. I would not be able to stay in the state I was experiencing. It was my fate to return to a different consciousness, and when I did the other would as well.

I turned away, understanding the necessity, content for the time to simply to enjoy the state I was in.

It was my time to simply be.

5

The Gift, the Curse

You'll Know Your Right

The next morning I was disoriented. I awoke in the guest room without any memory of how I had arrived in bed. My dream was a fragmented mix of loss, joy, and understanding. I could recall only bits and pieces. What remained was the lingering feeling of completion.

Time diminishes some things. I would discover later that understanding can flourish as it passes. I struggled to retain what little I could, but it was hopeless. I spent some time marveling at what a strange turn my life had taken.

Little remained but to greet the day.

As I dressed, I debated whether or not to tell Sam of my adventure the night before. I thought that he could shed some light on what had occurred. I really did not want to tell him that I had returned to Sara and my apartment. It seemed like a betrayal, and the memory of the apartment I had shared with Sara was far clearer than the rest for some reason. I did not know what to tell him. I was once again confronted by the idea that some things were personal.

Having dressed I exited my room, to find Sam humming happily as he worked in the kitchen. He greeted me with a broad smile. "Merry Christmas, Al."

I had completely forgotten that it was Christmas morning. I covered by returning in kind. "And to you as well, Sam."

The smell of breakfast made my stomach rumble, and I was eager to eat, but Sam had something else in mind. He invited me to come outside, after warning me that it was very cold outside, and suggesting that I put on my coat and boots.

He seemed rather pleased with himself.

Sam went out the door and I followed. He was entirely correct. It was bloody cold outside. The windows of my truck were completely frosted over.

I am never at my best in the morning, and this being no exception, it took me a few moments to process the information. When it finally sank in I was elated.

There, sporting a little red bow on the passenger side mirror, was my truck.

"Once again, merry Christmas."

The momentary elation was followed by curiosity.

"How did you manage to get it out of the ditch, Sam?" I checked my jacket pocket for my keys and found them missing.

Sam observed me quietly and handed me the missing set, which I returned to my pocket.

"While you were out last night one of my acquaintances dropped in to wish me the best of the season. He also asked if I had taken in any strays, probably due to the fact that he had passed your truck on the way out. It really did not take much to get it out of the ditch."

I could not fathom how I had missed someone coming to the door. I also could not recall getting off the couch and going to the bedroom. I was disappointed that I had missed the opportunity to meet one of his acquaintances. There was nothing I could do about it, so I walked down the steps to survey the damage, which amounted to nothing more than a small dent on the passenger side. The fact that I was upset I had missed one of his friends was surpassed by the simple joy of having my freedom once again.

The little bow on the mirror was a nice touch. I placed my hands on the cold metal of the hood to make sure it was real.

The elation and curiosity moved quickly to a new emotion.

I was free. Why did I suddenly feel dismay?

I stood, and as I stared at the truck I attempted to solve the riddle.

"Thank you, Sam." That was the most I could manage.

"It will still be here after breakfast, Al. Let's go back inside and warm up."

I followed him back to the cabin, checking over my shoulder once to make sure he was correct. The truck was still there, of course.

I took my boots and coat off, rubbing my hands together to get the blood flowing. I was stunned by the fact that I could eat breakfast, say goodbye to Sam, and be on my way. I found myself wondering if my truck would start. It was bloody cold outside.

I came to the realization that I might not want it so start.

When I was gone, Al, much like my dream, would be not but a memory. When Sam first insisted on giving me a name it had irritated me. I realized I would truly miss Sam. Perhaps I would miss 'Al.'

Somehow neither of those statements seemed quite right. It was something intangible that would be missing.

I took my seat at the table and waited for Sam before picking up my fork. I was very hungry. I ate silently, trying to decide on a course of action. Once my hunger was sated I looked up to see Sam observing me silently.

"So where will you be heading, Al?"

"Well... I have a few days left of my vacation." I briefly considered spending some time alone at my friend's cabin, but discarded the idea quickly. "Maybe I will drive out to Smithers for a few days."

Having said this aloud I realized that it was not what I wanted. When I looked up Sam was looking elsewhere.

"Of course, you could probably use some company for Christmas." I commented

I will admit, my justification sounded a little flimsy. I probably needed the company more than he did. I left it at that however. Sam seemed to consider carefully before answering.

"Up until this point you have been here because you had no other choice. By all means, if you intend to stay, your company is welcome. I simply want you to realize that from here on in, you are here on your own accord."

"Of course, Sam." The distinction seemed important to him for some reason. I felt my inner turmoil subside.

Sam rose and gathered our plates. I took the opportunity to return to my room. I sat on the bed and reviewed my situation. My truck offered freedom, something that I would forgo for in order to spend some more time with my host. I spent some time considering my reasons for staying, as well as what they entailed. Despite my decision, I only had a few days to spend with Sam.

My departure was inevitable. At some point I would have to return to the city, find a place to live, and go back to work. What was approaching was mundane. With Sam I felt like I was in the presence of something extraordinary.

I had never admitted that consciously.

A thought I had carried with me for some time is that one must live with purpose. What bothered me was the thought of what I would have gone through if the animal had not crossed my path. I came to the realization that it was irrelevant.

I considered what Sam had said about life being a choice—that we are who we are due to our own unique spirit. I also considered what he had said about nursing hurt feelings. Why do we feed hurt, guilt and pain?

Perhaps, much like 'how' and 'why', they are illusions we feel the need to hold onto.

Sam was unlike anybody I had ever met before. My loss was still present, but as distant as the city. What did continue to haunt me was the attitude of my friends and family. I really didn't know what I was trying to escape. Was it the memory of Sara, or that which I had seen in the eyes of those closest to me?

For some reason the two were related. What remained was the impression of a face. It was ugly.

I found the memory distasteful. I emerged from my room to spend some time in the company of something more appealing. If there was a social body it could wait for my return. Sam was here, as was 'Al,' and it was a vacation of sorts. Sam was an unknown quality. Why I found comfort in his company was yet another mystery. Perhaps it was his offer of a ticket that I welcomed, even if simply for the time being.

Sam had made himself comfortable in the living room. I took my usual position on the couch. He gave me a moment before breaking the silence.

"I have told you that the Nagual can only be experienced, it cannot be discussed. That is a simple fact. Generally one learns through experience as opposed to words. Due to the fact that the Tonal is the seat of language we can talk about it until we are blue in the face. The Tonal of man is lost to a reflection. As the narcissist once said to a young lady, 'Enough about me, let's talk about you. What do you think about me?'" Sam gave me a moment until my laughter quieted. "I have broached the topic of inner silence, which is of utmost importance to a sorcerer, as it is ones connection to their inner landscape. Once again language is a limitation. Silence is an illusion. Something is being said at all times."

I contemplated that which remained of my experience the night before. Once again I was left with a feeling of knowing. What was absent were the words to describe that knowledge.

"I believe I understand what you're saying about silent knowledge, Sam."

For some reason I did not feel the need to explain.

"Well was it?"

"Was it what, Sam?"

"Was it silent?"

I considered his question before responding. I could only wonder if Sam had insight into what I had experienced the night before. When I turned my thoughts towards my dream what remained clear to me was my living connection to the surrounding landscape. I came to a strange realization. He had called language the bridge between people. My memory of the night before was vague, but I was certain that there was no explanation required. I could only wonder if that was why I did not share some things with Sam.

"Maybe sometimes words are not necessary."

Sam nodded with a smile.

I thought about something my brother had told me awhile back. He had visited Japan, and much to my surprise, married a Japanese girl. He had said that he had struggled with the language, due to the fact that there were concepts in present in Japanese that were never expressed in English. When he spoke of Japan he said that English was coarse, while Japanese was far more subtle. The warm sunshine of my dream the night before was in stark contrast to the cold outside. When I turned my thoughts to silent knowledge I realized that some concepts could not be shared through words.

I shared my brother's experience with Sam.

"Your brother's reliance on the spoken word is quite likely the problem. We have a tendency to think that everything can be explained through language. When immersed yourself in the endless detail of my little tree, your own Tonal had temporarily lost its crown. It allowed room for a different awareness. In the end you will benefit from it."

The memory of inner silence did not require words.

"Different cultures give rise to very different expressions, in regards to both language and politics. During our time together I have attempted to bring to light the reality of the social body. In western society we raise the flag of democracy as the ultimate ideal. The problem is what we lose by adopting that ideal of freedom. I will tell you a secret, Al."

Sam leaned close and lowered his voice.

"It is your right to vote for anyone you want, in any manner you desire, anytime you feel the need. Everyone has a voice, and every voice is heard. You do not have to vote for the people they select for you in a democratic system. The universe takes note of every vote, although in the eyes of the universe, some votes weigh more heavily than others. The universe has a great appreciation for art. Remember that when you compose your songs."

Sam paused for a moment, and when he continued what I felt from him was sorrow.

"There is something gained and something lost through every exchange. When the pioneers of North America had to hitch their wagon to their horse, pack their entire family into that wagon, and ride for three hours to visit their nearest neighbor, you can rest assured that they had a good conversation. They also had a great appreciation for one another's company. Watch modern movies and compare them to those written before we had cell phones. Dialogue was brilliant in older films. Now we can text or tweet anywhere, at any time of the day. What is lost with everyone a click away is that people no longer value the art of communication."

Sam caught my eyes with a level gaze.

"What we have lost with the convenience of cell phones is equal to what we have lost in our western, democratic society. For one thing many people simply do not exercise the right to vote. We simply believe that our rights as citizens only manifest every four years. What about the months and years between elections? With everyone a click away we have also lost the simple art of communication."

The sorrow was still present in Sam's voice.

"When the human race caught sight of its own reflection, adorned by a crown, our Tonal acquired the ability to assign importance to itself for the first time. Perhaps I have not explained the Tonal to your satisfaction. The left side is a book from beginning to end. The right side is simply a highlighter. The substance is simply the part of the book you are highlighting. You must understand that the right side is nothing in and of itself. It simply brings attention to a specific part of the book. The influence of the mirror is pervasive in western society. When people say and do the right things for no reason other than social convention, the result is that our actions lose meaning, rather than gain it. Ultimately the right side ends up defeating its own purpose. In essence it loses as well. The left side projects intent through ones words and ones acts. If you highlight a highlight, in the end you have nothing."

"Can you give me an example, Sam?" For some reason I found this conversation crucial.

"Of course. When you are in a group of people who are rallying for a cause, the cause should be the focus of attention for those at the rally. What seems to be important in modern society is that everyone is waving the same flag. That is yet another example of Tonal for Tonal's sake. It is an example of highlighting a highlight."

Sam fell once again into pantomime, waving an imaginary flag and looking around with a furtive expression on his face, as if to make certain he was waving the same flag as everyone else. Everything appeared to be to his satisfaction, because he relaxed and exclaimed, 'God!'—now waving his imaginary flag with enthusiasm. He then repeated the same act a few more times, simply changing the cause. 'Children!'—were supported, first furtively, and then enthusiastically. 'Women's Rights!'—were supported as well.

Sam's sorrow was present once again.

"Unfortunately that is an example of right side for right sides sake. The causes themselves go unappreciated. All that matters in that case is that you are waving around the same flag as everyone else. The intent in that case is your own social standing, and without meaning in the end. That is the best example of modern society I can offer. It is an example of the right side is serving itself. It is hollow and empty."

I was reminded again of the face I had seen before I left town. Sam caught my eye.

"The meaning resides within you. It resides in the individual—in one's intent. If you wave your flag in support of women's rights, children, and God, then your intent should be with those causes. Your intent should not be to be seen waving the appropriate flag."

I thought back to what I had seen in American politics. It always left a bad taste in my mouth.

"The same thing can be said about the right to bear arms. The intent was that people should have the ability to defend themselves against corruption. Gun rights enthusiasts froth at the mouth and wave around the constitution, completely missing the intent behind the law. The law is there to protect people from things like the bailouts during the stock market crash. They insist on having the right to bear arms, and have completely lost sight of why that right is important."

For some reason my emotional response to his statements felt a lot like fear. Why, I do not know.

"I will give you another example in the political spectrum. The occupy movement was formed to protest the fact that one percent of the population has the vast majority of the wealth. The protesters set up tents in front of city hall in response. Who gives the one percent money? Are we all victims? The occupy movement should have set up those tents in their own back yards to protest themselves. We provide the one percent that money. That is a simple fact."

"What would you do, Sam?"

"I am doing it now. Any true change starts at home. If I was a political activist? I would bring back that great, mysterious economic system they call capitalism. Capitalism revolves around companies competing with each other to provide the best product at the best price. I would forget about the country and start with my community. It is something I actively pursue with my neighbors out here." He took in the surroundings with an expansive gesture. "It is probably why my neighbor offered his assistance with your vehicle."

Sam paused for a moment before continuing.

"Rather than paying eighty dollars for a printer ribbon that costs two dollars to produce, I would get all the members of the community to get behind each other, go to one store at a time, and insist that they charge a reasonable price, or nobody in the community would purchase that item from that store. It means recognizing that you are part of a community, and that that the community includes republicans, democrats, blacks, whites and Jews. It is my community. I have the power to make a business succeed or fail."

Sam's tone was vehement.

"Out here my neighbors and I actively decide which local businesses to support, and those that we have issues with. We keep the stores in our small community honest. Everyone participates. If I wanted to stimulate economic growth in my community? Once again I would get everybody together, to fight for my rights as a consumer. I would insist that the local KFC give my son or daughter a two dollar an hour raise. If there are twenty employee's working at that KFC, and they all get the raise, how many cases of beer can the employee's get at the end of the shift."

"Twenty?" I gave the response I thought he wanted, and then felt a little guilty.

"And how many can the owner get at the end of the shift, who makes thousands of dollars above that which my son or daughter does in a day?"

"One." I had to admit that raising minimum wage would get more people drunk. Maybe that would help the local economy.

"What goes on in a country, or even a community for that matter, is the responsibility of each and every member of the community. As I said, my friend and neighbor dropped in last night to see if anyone needed help. I did not have to ask, and I enjoyed his company while he was here. I was not charged for the assistance."

The thought of my truck in the driveway with the bow on elicited a smile. That being said, I was not going anywhere yet.

"It is not us or them. It is our country and our community." Sam continued. "The constitution of the United States of America was also created to protect individual rights and freedoms. It is each and every individual of a community that matters. When we wave our flag in support of God, children, and the rights of women, what should be of importance is the cause, not status or social approval. It should not be for esteem in the eyes of others. It is the intent that changes, even if you are waving the same bloody flag." I was again haunted by that face. "We have control over to whom we give our hard earned money. We have the right to vote for whomever we choose. Your local KFC is not going to be shipped overseas!"

I had never seen my host so animated before.

"If there is a cause you feel passionate about, wave your flag with spirit, and hold your intent true. That is how things get done. Other people can do as they please."

My guitar, and quite possibly my own vote, was leaning against the couch. We left it there for the morning.

The Tramp Stamp

The morning had passed quickly. Sam was tidying up, which left me some time to review my situation. I was a little surprised about our political discussion until I took into consideration where I was. Sam obviously lived a solitary existence removed from society. I thought back to his story about working in a chicken coop. The idea that they fought for social standing while waiting in line for slaughter was truly horrific."

I suppose if some uneducated KFC employees got a raise it would not be the end of the world.

Left to my own devices, I took the opportunity to explore the cabin, and probably due to the presence of my truck in the driveway, I had consciously accepted my role as Sam's guest for the first time since I had arrived on his doorstep.

Later in our association Sam would explain that having a choice was integral any given situation, although that choice could also be removed.

Apparently my entire existence had led up to that moment. I considered what he had said about the mentality of the blue cat. I really have no idea why it is so hard to accept your-self as part of the universe. There is something about the concept which people find disagreeable. I looked around, and attempted to realize my place as part of it. Although I was only able to witness a small part of eternity, I could not complain. What I liked best was the evenings, with the candles casting undulating shadows on the rough-hewn logs that made the cabin.

It would be a few days before I had to leave, and take my place in a different part of the universe entirely. If I was truly part of the universe then my part would move as well.

I had to wonder about the resulting awareness.

I realized that although he had separated himself from both the city and the social body, Sam's home was his own way of casting his vote. I could only wonder who tallied the votes. If I had the right to vote, perhaps I also had some say on who was elected.

And there I was, a sliver of eternity in my own right. I had accepted the offer Sam had made in regards to a new ticket. That made a grand total of two votes, as far as I knew, but for some reason I did not think the total mattered.

I continued looking around with the conscious intent to remember the details of the cabin. Sam finished tidying up and once again sat across from me. My truck was in the driveway, and soon I would return to the city. I had to ask.

"Sam, do you like living out here all alone?"

Sam looked at me solemnly.

"Yes I do. In modern society, Al, people think that they must be allowed in. Every voice has a right to be heard. People compromise their values and make concessions in regards to what they think is right, for no reason other than to fit in." Sam waved a dejected imaginary flag. "At one point in history we understood the value of patience. That time is long gone. My fate is dictated by my own being, so what need is there for fear or to rush the process? When I die, if the world changes and there is no place for my mentality? I can wait until I find a more agreeable situation."

Sam caught my eyes and fell silent for a moment, as if to emphasize his point.

"I hold the deed to this property. I told you that the physical body can be regarded as a manifestation of the right side, and the right side is an agreement. If you are a saint or a sinner, an angel or a demon, you are who you are. What is there to fear in the end? If people reject you? Your time will come, at some point. You are a sliver of eternity. You are eternal. There is no rush, and there is no hurry. You are part of the universe, with a unique spirit and a voice that has a right to be heard. That will never change."

On my way out of town I had wondered how far I would have to drive to escape myself. I could never drive far enough, but for the first time I could truly say I was present, and I had Sam for company. I was alright.

"Do you live out here all alone by choice or because of what you believe in though?" I would return to the city soon, and there was an appeal in my voice. At that moment I would have loved to introduce him to my friends. Maybe I wanted Sam to introduce Al to my friends. He had called me an investment, of course.

I decided I would contribute as best I could.

"My belief is a choice, Al." Sam continued. "The belief anyone else holds is a choice as well. I worked hard to arrive where I am. People spend an endless amount of time in the search for truth. When you quit worrying about the truth, your choice in regards to what you believe in becomes even more relevant. Isn't it interesting that one's choice can gain relevance when one realizes that the desire to realize the truth is an illusion?"

I realized that Sam's statement was similar to what he had said about the right to vote. I sat silently for a moment and thought about voting during an election. I realized that I really understood little about either politics or economics.

But my little x in a box was so important. Maybe my vote held more weight in regards to things that I did understand. I would rather contribute with a song, but would people listen? I thought about playing in the coffee shop and was a little disgusted with my own insecurity. Sam continued.

"If my actions and my belief were not one in the same, something would have to be resolved. That is where the Tonal comes into play, and the right side operates through agreement. I am content with who I am. You need not concern yourself about me."

I realized that it was not him that I was worried about. I was a little ashamed of my emotional state at the moment. I was angry for some reason, and once again I could not identify the source of the emotion. It was not the man I was talking too.

Maybe it was me.

For perhaps the first time I wondered what I, myself, believed in. Maybe I did not know.

"Is there a way to know that your actions and beliefs are one in the same, Sam?" I had to ask.

"When your voice, your actions, and your beliefs are one in the same, you realize silence. What I would suggest as a start is to focus on your voice." His statement seemed counter intuitive. "It is not our need to communicate which is wrong, it is our need to justify ourselves that leaves us wanting. Silence is golden. The best advice I can give you is to live by your word. Life is not a test that you have to pass. Your existence has already been realized. The acceptance of others is a simply a luxury. Your voice is a product of your personal landscape. A voice is never the truth, but if you live by your word you draw that voice back into line with the environment. That is the best advice I can give you."

My anger had been replaced by sorrow. I thought about my dream the night before. Sara's warmth had been replaced by rubble. If that was the result of a bid for approval, I vowed not to make the same mistake again.

I can only think that Sam noticed that I was somewhat detached. He cleared his throat to catch my attention, not allowing me to nurse the piggy.

"Your life experience can be regarded as the left side, your voice found to the right."

I stopped Sam before he continued.

"Why the insistence on the left and right, Sam? How can the environment be found to the left? You have repeated that time and time again."

Sam raised his eyebrows a little at my tone. His response would be something I could verify on my own in the years to follow.

"It is simply the universes way of letting you know your experience is subjective. In the end your bones will be buried in the ground. Then you will not have to worry about the subjective nature of existence. Trouble will always approach from the left, prey are found to the right."

At that moment I had to take his word for it.

"I read on your driver's license that you are twenty-four years old. Your life has encompassed a great deal. When you speak, you should simply attempt to express that experience in a manner appropriate to both your company and your surroundings. One does not cuss in church, of course. One of the best ways of getting to know your own voice is by observing the voices of others. Try to identify the intent when someone speaks, and realize that your words can never truly express your experience. Much like the sorcerers journey home, one can only make the attempt. Layers of thought and emotion color every action. That is why living by your word is important. It draws the words back into physical reality. In a sense, when we speak, we are always doing it wrong."

I was reminded of the coyote call for some reason. I decided to ask Sam about it.

"Why was the call of the coyote so important, Sam?"

Sam looked at me with a smile.

"That is the right question in regards to our present discussion. The coyote is the holy trickster of creation. If you think about our conversation at the time you will understand. I will not explain it to you."

Just before the coyote called, Sam had told me that my entire existence had led up to that moment. In response to that call I had slipped into a state of profound despair.

I could only wonder why it was so hard to be present. Later in life I would realize that it required accepting both yourself and other. We all have things we want to deny.

"One of the best ways of getting to know one's own voice is by listening attentively to the voices of those around you. Each and every one of your friends has a unique voice, a unique style, and a unique expression. The human race as a whole is but one of the voices of Gaia. By observing the voices of other creature's one can listen to the voice of the world."

"So being a human being is like having a tramp stamp?"

Sam looked genuinely shocked at my comment. I felt a moment of true satisfaction. I will admit that that was one of the only times I ever truly got the man off balance. He raised an eyebrow and asked me to explain.

"A tramp stamp is a tattoo, Sam."

He burst out laughing. "It is one neither you nor I will ever live down, Al."

The expression on his face was comical. I looked at the mantle of the fireplace and the carvings it featured. Sam said that crows had a language of their own. I do not know if it was due to my victory in that case, but I made myself a promise that I would listen to the voices of both other people and those of other animals to the best of my ability.

I had caught him off balance, and it was worth the effort, but it did not deter him at all.

"As I said, when we speak we are always doing it wrong. Both your body and my own are part of the intent of Gaia. She has given you your life, so you should do her justice. My body has millions of cells, my heart beats, and I breathe. Compared to my body, my words are but the tiniest refinement of that which I know. To the left of your body, you find what I refer to as Gaia. Without the individual, there would not be a society. Without the environment, there is no individual. You are simply a cell in her body, the other cells being the countless other creatures which live alongside us. Each and every one of them has a distinct voice, and they all have something different to say. The best form of worship, regardless of ones beliefs, is the simple act of paying attention. The concept of left and right is subjective. You could call it the long side and the short side if you wanted."

I did understand that. I had spent a great deal of time thinking about my vision of the Nagual, and what he had said about my witnessing it with the totality of my being. The short side was the word tree. The long side was an endless world of detail. An eternity, if you will.

"Perhaps a better way of discussing it would be as down and up. When we point down we all point at this beautiful creature we call home. When we point up we point in seven billion different directions."

Sam's eyes were dark and liquid.

"Down is Gaia. It is home. She is to the left of me, which leaves me to the right. Gaia is several billion years long, while I am simply a blink of the eye."

If I was an incomplete expression of the planet itself, then in order to understand my own role I had to include everyone else.

That would take practice. If the motive was to become self-aware, and the means of doing so was observing others, I would do so the best of my ability.

Voices of Gaia

"This," he started our discussion after lunch by slapping his thighs emphatically, "is my Tonal. If I wanted I could conceive a child. That would, of course, require the presence of a woman. No other animal will suffice. It is called body language, of course, and the Tonal works through agreement."

I considered my own realization in regards to the spirit. The spirit was the manner in which an individual approached any given situation. There was no doubt in my realization at all. Sam would later describe it as seeing.

Due to my own insight, I thought I had him on the ropes.

"When we went for a walk a few days earlier you told me that my spirit was my body. Now you are saying that my body is my Tonal. I am guessing that they cannot be both."

Sam chuckled quietly.

"Your guess is correct. Your Tonal is your tramp stamp, Al. It is your humanity. The spirit is still your body, it is simply what your appearance says as a human being.

Later in our association I would ask Sam if two people could see two different truths. I considered Sam's comment quietly for a moment. I guess my own appearance said something about myself as a human being.

"The distinction between the left and the right is created by through the subjective nature of life itself." Sam continued. "It comes through the divide between 'me' and 'not me.' Eternity is always present, and the universe is an amazing place. The goal of the universe is self-awareness, and in the end it always gets what it desires. I asked you once before, will you allow others to dictate your identity, or will you forge one for yourself?"

"I think you know the answer to that question, Sam." Sam had said that creative inspiration came from the Nagual, which also ruled our inner landscape. That inspiration simply manifested itself through the Tonal.

I decided at that moment that I would write a song for the universe, with the intent of forging my own identity.

"Consider that painting for a moment, and what it means." Sam was looking at the same picture which had held my attention earlier in the day. "There are never two trails of light on the water. The experience is an individual one, created by your unique expression, which includes your eyes, the water, and the sun itself. Nobody 'owns' the sun. It is there for all to see, as are both people on the bank, but the person standing on the bank has also been given completely personal vision."

That statement made me feel rather odd. That something shared by all could be yours, and yours alone, was an alien concept. Why, I really could not say.

He raised his eyebrows to emphasize his next point.

"A sorcerer develops the ability to listen to the language of the world. Each and every one of us has something to contribute. We all add to the multi-faceted perspective of the whole."

For a moment I struggled with the concept of the world talking. But it had, had it not? Although I could recall little, it had offered both comfort and silent understanding in my dream the previous evening.

I was also curious.

"How does a sorcerer do that, Sam?"

"To be completely honest, Al, it is not really all that complicated. We have a tendency to make things far more complicated than they really are. You can learn everything you need to know by observing the surface. A dog's growl needs no translation. Neither does the white gown and veil of a bride."

Sam had said that we all have a unique voice. He also said that the human race was a voice in its own right. I could only wonder who we were talking too. Somehow that thought was related to my own internal dialogue.

"Well what is Gaia saying, Sam?"

"She has told me that she appreciates the mentality of the blue cat." Sam commented.

"How did she tell you that?"

"A girlfriend of mine had a book which she lent me that was a book on Witches. On the front cover there were two of Gaia's manifestations, the Bright Mother and the Dark Lady. A picture of a blue cat was on the back cover, and it is an appropriate expression for humanity."

I was getting frustrated. Sam said that it wasn't complicated but I was growing more and more confused.

"Well what does she mean by the blue cat?"

"When you are feeling blue it is all about you. Cats embody the number one. They are very physical by nature, and they give and take through their awareness equally. When you pet a cat it will return the favor by purring. I told you that what we focus our attention on receives energy from us, and we receive energy in a reciprocal relationship in return. Cats have the ability to embody the number one because they take no more than they give."

I still did not understand the relevance. Sam smiled.

"It will come in time, Al. For now simply realize that both you and this cabin are part of the universe. Then try to grasp the concept that this," Sam took in the physical surroundings with a wave of his hand, "is the whole universe."

"And what? It's all about me?"

"Yes Al, this sliver of eternity is all about you." I was looking at him suspiciously. He considered for a moment and then simply continued our discussion.

"We all are, and as slivers we are all limited to our own unique expression. A sorcerer puts his emphasis on the left side, and carefully courts the right. One must realize that every individual is like an iceberg. There is but a small not but a small part visible above water."

I had to guess that as well as being a subjective expression, the concept of left and right was rather fluid.

"Our species is a very strange voice. We are in a constant battle for truth, which is strange, because for the most part we fail to realize our own. It matters little if it is religion, art, science, or any methodology. We search for truth. By stepping outside social constructs a sorcerer realizes that the struggle itself is erroneous."

"Why is that, Sam?"

"It is erroneous because we are all individual truths." He looked away from me, his brow furrowed. "Perhaps the best way of looking at your fellow humans is emotionally. I am sure you have met someone in your life that you can think of as a sunny day." I was once again reminded of my dream. "Maybe you know someone else who's expression is—'I am sad.'"

He looked back at me with a serious expression.

"It is the easiest way to explain. One does not argue the validity of a sunny day. When someone is sad there is no point in wondering if they are right or not. Arguing whose expression is the correct one is ridiculous. It is like saying that Icelandic is the 'correct' language. If we were not all unique truths we would not be here."

I was rather amused at the concept of a person being a sunny day. When I thought about it I realized I had met a few people in my life who you could consider being a certain expression. Sara, in my mind at least, had been beauty itself. Nobody could argue otherwise.

"Let us turn from moods to other voices once again. Consider a spider. Imagine an existence where you are born, weave a web, and simply wait. For that spider its entire existence is at stake. If a creature flies into the spider's web, it lives. If not, it does not survive. Most people cannot abide life without constant distraction. It is due in part to human nature, and in part to a dull link with the spirit. One can observe other voices of Gaia. It is not magic—simply the power of perception."

For some reason I was horrified by his analysis of the life of a spider. It took me a moment to realize it was due to my own existence. He was right. I needed constant distraction. The idea of simply waiting, even if it was not my life that hung in the balance, was a foreign concept.

"I broached the topic of ants earlier. They are a voice, much like that of humanity." Sam continued. "Consider that voice once again."

Much to my chagrin I had spent a great deal of time disturbing ant's nests in my youth. Apparently I was lacking the same respect.

Sam was waiting. I could offer no insight.

"One can listen by observing. The voice of an ant is a unique expression. They are a collective driven by a queen. An ant is a part of a larger whole. They will defend their nest to the death."

All I could see was a little ant trying to bite me, one I could squash with my little finger. I really did not see what I could learn from the situation.

"Yeah, I know." For some reason I felt a flash of anger at Sam's comment. I had no idea where the emotion came from.

"When one is part of a larger whole there is no fear. Those little ants will take on something ten thousand times their size without fear. Can you say the same for yourself?"

And I knew I couldn't.

"Why not, Al?"

And his question brought forth a sense of loss. It was once again my break up with Sara. It was the dismay I had experienced in the faces of those I loved. It was none of those things at all. Even as I asked the question, I knew it was inane.

Sam had told me that when we speak, we are always doing it wrong. Maybe that is was why I said it.

"I really do not know what is bigger than me, Sam."

"Perhaps it is something you should come to know."

I felt self-conscious about my comment, but I did not attempt to retract it.

Sam looked on silently for a moment before continuing.

"Have you ever seen one of the little piles of sand that an ant builds around the entrance to their home?" Personally I did not think a crack in the sidewalk was a viable home, but I was not an ant. "As far as I know, the only function of that pile of sand is to claim the location as the ant's home. An ant is a voice of Gaia as well. If you look at other animals you will realize that invariably, they all claim their own living space."

Sam looked at me with a serious expression.

The capacity of ants to defend their nests against creatures many times their size was formidable. I had to concede that it was possible their lack of fear was not a sign of stupidity.

"You must have your own space playing. By observing other voices of Gaia you can witness that simple truth expressed by many different voices. You can claim your space with trash or a sense of style, though in the end I suppose it is always style. The universe is impersonal by nature. It does not judge."

"But you said that the motive behind existence is self-awareness."

"Yes. I also told you that you are free to express yourself in any manner you choose."

I came to the sudden realization that the anger I experienced had been in response to my own fear. I considered myself far more capable than an ant.

"If we are all part of something bigger, Sam, why are we so afraid of dying?" My tone held an appeal once again.

"The problem with mankind is that it that it has been caught by its own reflection. When our eyes are on our own reflection one cannot realize anything else. It sees naught but the crown that it claims. As a species we own the whole world! Realizing you are part of something bigger is only difficult when you see nothing but yourself. Our vision stops at our species. We do not see ourselves as part of the world. A sorcerer makes every effort to escape the confines of self-importance. When you leave those claims behind you realize that you are a voice, the same as any other. When you step away you realize that every species is a unique voice—a unique expression."

The silence that fell between us did not express my own emotions in the least. It was something I could not describe, but I will admit I found comfort in my host. Sam had said that the goal of the universe was to be self-aware. He also said that one gained self-awareness by observing others. I had never really considered gaining insight from an ant.

Why would I?

"I told you that your fellow man literally claims everything, while it squanders the very gifts it was given. We have the ability to learn from the life around us, but we choose to ignore it. Our choice is to glorify ourselves instead." He snorted in disgust. "The assertion that humanity is different because we are aware of our own mortality is an excellent example of self-importance. As if a deer, fleeing from a wolf, with its heart beating a thousand times a minute, is not aware that it is in danger."

I had to admit he had a point.

"You told me that we can claim whatever we want, Sam. What if those claims are false?"

"The universe offers freedom, and it accepts any offer in return. If those claims are false?" Sam shrugged his shoulders. "If those claims are false then they carry no weight. It is possible to live in a world completely of your own creation." All I could see was a door, framing rubble. "If that is the case? Then you simply do not affect the rest. Why would it matter?"

"What do you claim?" This time my tone held a challenge.

Sam looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"I told you awhile back I believe in as little as possible. I claim a place as part of creation, a singular expression of my own choosing. My place is here, in this cabin which was built of wood from the very land it rests on. It was also built by my own two hands. My belief does not have people burning in hell for the rest of eternity because they do not hold the same beliefs I do. Other people can do as they please."

I was silent. I thought about the time I had spent with Sam so far. I had felt a depth of sorrow in him on occasion and I debated whether or not to bring it up.

For some reason Sam's sorrow struck me as a private affair, much like some of my experiences over the last couple days.

"I told you that the focus of sorcery is awareness itself." Sam continued. "Our potential is what is realized through the faith of sorcerers. There is a species of ant that has done away with males, and as a result their genetic diversity. The female queen of the species simply clones itself. At some point in their existence the environment will change. Other predators will adapt and new competition will arise. Due to the fact that they are all clones, that species of ant is doomed to fail. Perhaps it has achieved perfection. It has made its choice, and though doomed, those ants will live out the rest of their existence in the perfection of their own chosen expression. Life is an agreement. Inherent in that agreement is ones inevitable demise. I only wish that all creatures could make that choice consciously."

Sam raised his eyebrows expressively.

"I told you that false claims are ultimately detrimental to one's survival. We are the product of our own spirit and the surrounding environment. I am an animal the same as any other. A predator is dependent upon its prey. The survival of the human race ultimately depends upon the existence of other creatures. What good is a crown, in that case?"

Sam had been looking at the fire. When he looked up and caught my eyes his own were calm and clear.

"I have been focusing on creatures that share the planet with us. You asked me what is bigger than you are. The world is much, much bigger than you. Isn't it amazing that such a simple reality is difficult to realize, when you are the center of the universe. The human race is one of the voices of Gaia. You are a voice of the human race. What I want you to take from this conversation is the idea that one can listen to the language of the world. It is not that complicated. It requires taking a view without self-importance. We are eternal, and we have agreed to be who we are. Why the fear? The wonders that can be witnessed from taking your place as part of the world are truly extraordinary."

Sam looked away for a moment. This time when he caught my attention it was with dark eyes.

"We both moan and glory at the potential of our scientific endeavors. With one face we wail at the prospect of the end of the world, while with the other face we rejoice in that very power. The universe is around fourteen billion years old. I have only been here for a blink of an eye. The planet itself is around four billion years old, and has gone through many cycles in its existence. They call one period snowball earth, and ninety eight percent of life on the planet perished. The dinosaurs ruled for millions of years, until an asteroid and some volcanic eruptions ended their reign."

Sam raised an eyebrow and looked at me calmly.

"Like that species of ant, our beautiful planet will meet its demise when the sun becomes a red giant. That, however, is a long ways in the future. Where will we be when that happens?"

And the sorcerer's journey was the journey home. I felt no real need to intrude on the silence. I turned my attention from Sam back to the fire.

That ended our talk for the afternoon.

The Most Wonderful Time of the Year

I already had first-hand experience with Sam's love of surprises. I thought that the day in question would have softened him a bit. I would soon discover that I was sadly mistaken. What came first was a more pleasant than the surprise to follow.

It came in the form of a bottle of Jack Daniels.

The sight of it made my eyes light up. Sam chuckled at my expression. From somewhere in a cupboard he produced two very nice glasses, as well as a two liter of coke, and from the freezer he retrieved some ice.

He poured two glasses, dropped the ice in, and then looked at me with an expression which held warning.

"The ice will probably be unnecessary."

I was eager for a drink. I had forgotten how cold it was outside. Sam informed me that we would be heading outside. I am certain my drink felt unappreciated as I donned my coat and boots. And out we went. The reunion with my Jack was more welcome than the weather outside.

It was still very, very cold.

Sam placed his glass on a table between the two handmade chairs that the porch featured, and after brushing off a light dusting of snow he took his seat and settled in. I followed suit in the other chair. He saw me eyeing my glass and laughed, urging me to go ahead.

The Jack was fantastic, it was bloody cold outside, and my Christmas gift was a welcome sight in the driveway.

"Do you know the difference between cats and dogs, Al?" He asked.

I shook my head and took another sip.

"A dog wakes up in the morning at the foot your bed. The dog then rouses you out of slumber by licking his your face. You then crawl out of bed and scratch the dog behind his ears. The dog's day begins with a meal. Later, you take the dog out and idly pass time with a game of fetch. In the evening the dog gets fed once again, and as the night closes in you retire for the day, coming full circle, with the dog at the foot of your bed."

He looked at me his eyes twinkling. I was cold, entertained, and enormously happy with my drink.

"The dog thinks to itself as its eyes close, 'This guy, he must be god!'"

Sam took a sip himself before continuing.

"A cat wakes up to a similar day, with a meal in the morning. The cat makes itself home on your lap. You lavish the cat with love and attention, later entertaining it with a piece of string. You clean out its litter box, gives the cat a few treats, and the cat, very much like the dog in the previous example, end's the day at the foot of the bed."

We both sipped our JD.

"The cat sighs contentedly thinking, 'Wow, I must be god!"

I had to laugh.

"Of course, that may not be the reality of cats and dogs, but I tell you the story to illustrate a point. I suggested earlier that truth in inconsequential. The point is that two creatures in exactly the same situation can have vastly different perspectives in regards to the reality of their situation."

I wondered where this was going. My drink left a warm glow in my stomach as my extremities went in quite another direction.

My glass was empty when I set it down, and Sam proceeded to pour me another. I accepted gratefully.

"This morning we were discussing the linguistic differences between the English language and that of the Japanese. Much like my story about cats and dogs, different cultures express different truths. There are many creation myths. Today is Christmas, which revolves around one of these stories. It is also a story which transcends many languages. Today I wish to talk about the Tonal, but in doing so we can also identify the story that the sorcerers tell."

"Do the sorcerers have a creation story?" I wanted to know. Sam started laughing.

"Well of course!"

"I am curious to know what that is."

Sam thought for a moment and cleared his throat.

"One evening a guy was at home spending a quiet evening in the company of his wife, when a few of his good friends called and invited him out. He asked if it was ok with the misses, and when she agreed, he went out, promising that his attention would be hers alone when he returned home. She said goodbye, and eager as he was for a few drinks with the boys, he forgot his promise. He had a great time with his friends. When he returned home, he was slightly drunk, and during a conversation with his wife, he made a statement which he considered completely innocuous. His wife, being a typical woman, flew into a rage in response and they broke up."

I was wondering how this story was a creation myth. It sounded much like an evening any of my friends might have. Sam cleared that up when he finished the story.

"The man's comment was completely innocent of course." Sam looked at me and winked. "You can consider us all marriage counselors. We are all simply here to resolve the issues between that very innocent man, and his wife."

I felt rather let down because I thought he was kidding. When I turned to face him he was looking at me with an odd expression. He then shrugged and shook his head.

"You did ask."

I covered my confusion with my glass of Jack.

"It is funny how the Tonal works." Sam seemed content to leave the creation story alone and continued where he had left off. "It is a small part of a greater whole. As with knowledge gained through the observation of other creatures, it is possible to catch a glimpse of the Nagual by looking at different manifestations of the Tonal within man. In a sense, one can indirectly identify the Nagual through different manifestations of the Tonal."

I tried to ignore how cold I was. He pointed to a snow covered expanse in front of his house.

"So tell me, what kind of snow is that?"

I was puzzled by his question. I really did not know how to respond.

"It's... its fluffy snow."

He took a long time considering my tentative observation, and then nodded solemnly.

"Yes, you are correct, it is fluffy snow."

"What does that have to do with the Nagual, Sam?"

"I said we would explore the Nagual by observing different manifestations of the Tonal of man. In the language of the Inuit there are over forty words for 'snow.' This occurred due to the fact that knowledge of the weather conditions are an absolute necessity for their survival. In the English language we have the word snow, and maybe ice and frost would apply as well, but that is about it."

All I could think to myself was that if we stayed outside much longer I would resemble an icicle myself. I tried to shrug off my displeasure and get a grip on what he was saying.

"Alright, I can see how languages differ. So where is the Nagual, Sam?"

He pointed once again at the field of snow before the tree line.

"What are you blind, man?" He laughed, his breath fogging the air. "This is a little unfair of me. I have told you it can only be experienced. The Nagual is always present, but it never advertises. It's right there." He waved again absently.

I looked despite myself. All I saw was the snow.

"In English we have a few words for snow. The Inuit have over forty. The function of the right side is to reduce eternity into something manageable. The Inuit are a unique expression of the Tonal of man. Knowledge of the snow conditions is utterly crucial for their survival. The Tonal is a small part of a larger whole. It must be, as that is its function. The point I am trying to draw attention to is that no snowfall is ever the same. Consider for a moment that every individual snowflake is unique. When it snows a foot all one sees is a uniform blanket of white snow." He pointed to the snow which I had so accurately described as fluffy. "That is where the Nagual hides. It is that which the Tonal disguises."

I got the point. I was also getting extremely cold. I looked over at Sam, but he did not seem to be suffering as I was. The idea of having a drink had been distracting. I had not brought my gloves. Sam had not brought any either, but he did not appear to be suffering as I was.

"The real tragedy of life is to live unaware of the existence of the Nagual. As I have said, the Inuit language developed as it did because it was necessary for their survival. Due to the harsh conditions, they also had to get to know each other in very close quarters. They had to love and respect each other because they could not survive without one another. The majority of things that occur in life do so out of simple necessity. They say that Christmas is the happiest time of the year. Through the comfort of one another we can make the best of the situation. It is something the Inuit understand all too well."

Sam paused before continuing.

"There are many stories that we tell. Christmas is an interesting one, which revolves around the birth of Christ. I have always found the ritual of putting up a Christmas tree rather amusing, as it is simply part of a pagan story. It has absolutely nothing to do with the birth of Christ."

"Sam, I am very, very cold, can we go back inside?"

Sam's response was to break out into song.

"It's the most wonderful time of the year

With the kids jingle belling

And everyone telling you 'Be of good cheer!'

It's the most wonderful time of the year

It's the hap-happiest season of all

With those holiday greetings and gay happy meetings

When friends come to call

It's the hap-happiest season of all!"

He turned to look at me with a grin. By the end of his carol I was shivering uncontrollably, my drink forgotten.

"A-a-are you trying to be f-f-funny?"

His expression turned more serious.

"No I am not trying to be funny at all. In order to get along we must come to an understanding with people that have different viewpoints than our own. I am trying to illustrate a point, Al. When things are miserable people can band together, have a few drinks, keep each other company, and make the best of the situation. That is the power of the Tonal. It is far from the most wonderful time of the year. As a Canadian you may very well consider this the worst time of the year. I suppose it just depends on your relationships with other people. It is possible to find comfort in one another's company. In itself, there is nothing wrong with the Tonal. Unfortunately, people have adopted the attitude that their feelings and attitudes effect their environment. A smile can lend warmth to a social gathering, but it cannot change the weather."

"Al-alright Sam, I g-g-get it."

It was obvious that I had had enough. He left it there. I was more than happy to follow him back inside.

The Portrait of Man

The fire in the hearth was a welcome sight. My numb fingers had a precarious grip on my glass of Jack, which I set down reluctantly as I took my coat and boots off. Sam was humming happily and cleaning up in the kitchen. Yet another Christmas carol, of course.

I sat on the couch and waited for my shivering to subside.

When I had warmed, I returned to my drink. Sam's holiday spirit might be lacking, but my truck was in the driveway, and my keys were in my pocket. I had my freedom once again.

I had finished another drink before Sam took his chair across from me.

"In order for you to be an effective representative of the species you must understand your own Tonal. One must be acquainted with the Gift. One must identify the Curse."

My drink and the warmth of the fire had lulled me back into a more receptive state. That being said, if I was cursed, it was most likely by my companion.

"Alright Sam, fly at it." I motioned for him to continue.

"The curse is the fact that mankind lives in a dream. The gift, of course, is the ability to dream."

The liquor had started to have an effect. My hands had thawed to some extent, which put me in a better frame of mind, though I simply could not put the two statements together. My glass was once again empty.

"Why is it a curse, Sam?"

"We believe that our dream is the reality. As a result we are stuck in our own machine. Our dream has taken precedence above all else, and the result is ignorance in regards to that which sustains us. A dream cannot fill ones belly. Unfortunately we have donned a crown, rather than tending the fields that sustain us. We dream, although the light of morning is inevitable."

I was attempting to come to grips with the idea that we lived in a dream. Although the concept was difficult to comprehend, I did have the memory of warmth, sunshine and silent knowledge in a dream of my own. Sam rose and went to the mantle, once again taking the carving of the crow off the shelf, which he placed between us on the living room table.

"Take this carving, for example. It would take an aberrant artist to call his work 'truth' or 'reality'. That being said, nobody could dispute the truth or reality of his work."

I was looking at the crow, which was without a doubt a lovely work of art. That it was art was easy enough to understand. It was not a crow, of course. I still could not help but feel that Sam was arguing semantics.

"I will refer to the Tonal in many ways. You can think of it as a dream, a story, an illusion, or as a form of art. I look at my own as a story. Unfortunately the Tonal of man has been quite effectively hijacked. Mankind is, for lack of a better description, an aberrant artist."

He picked the carving up from the table.

"This crow will never fly, I am afraid."

His statement left me with an odd sense of foreboding. Strangely I had the capacity to feel sorry for the crow. I dismissed the feeling as an effect of the drink.

"Well then why is it a gift, Sam?"

He looked at me in surprise, and then broke into quiet laughter.

"As a teacher I am often lacking. I have told you the Tonal is an agreement. Why is it a gift? We actually have the ability to create the very world we inhabit. We are free to live and dream as we choose. How could that be anything but a gift?"

I had the feeling I was missing something. I was plagued by the vision of an endless row of mailboxes. Sam was considering me, his head at a bit of an angle.

"Our dream is simply one part of a larger whole. It is one little flame among millions. The portrait mankind has painted is one of himself as lord and master. It is appropriate to judge neither art nor a dream, but a self-portrait cannot act, in the same sense that my carving cannot fly."

I was getting more than a little frustrated. I got the gist of his argument, but for the life of me I could not see the relevance. I said as much.

Sam sighed.

"That is my point exactly. You cannot even see the story you participate in. You are as unaware of it as you were the existence of the Nagual before you decided to knock on my door. Take a moment and think—what is the story that your fellow man has told you? What is the dream that unites us all through mutual agreement?"

My thoughts were pleasantly fuzzy, but my glass was still empty. Due to the fact that I had no idea what Sam wanted I decided to ask for another drink instead. Sam laughed and waved me on. With my glass once again full I took a shot.

"Are you talking about religion, Sam?"

"That is a good start. The problem is that there are many faiths in the world. There are also atheists. The dream of man encompasses our entirety."

His talk of dreams and illusions was leading me astray. A unifying dream of man was what I was looking for. A story everyone followed.

I admitted defeat.

"Take out your wallet, Al."

I did as he requested and opened it up. The first thing I saw was my driver's license, which had featured prominently when we first met. I could not see an answer in that. Other than that, I had receipts, various credit cards, and about three hundred dollars cash.

And then the light went on.

"You're talking about money."

He beamed in agreement. Unfortunately despite my victory I was all the more puzzled.

Again the concept of a dream eluded me.

"How could you call money a dream, Sam?"

I looked at the crow on the table. Its left eye regarded me impassively. Sam did not respond at first.

"You cannot be serious, Sam."

"Oh I am very serious. If my carving were actually a crow your money would be quite safe. What use would a crow have for a piece of paper? Do you think any other creature gives a shit about your money? Every species on the planet has a fundamental, underlying dream which serves as its foundation. The dream of man is wealth. The money in your wallet is the physical manifestation of that dream."

I was still struggling with the idea that money was a dream, or even a story for that matter. He was right about one thing. I had never even questioned the fact that I had to go to work for eight hours a day. At the thought of my job I cringed inwardly. I simply could not see any way out of going back to work.

Perhaps that was the problem.

"It is not simply money, Al. It goes far deeper than that. If someone were interested in buying my property I would have to sign over the deed. Who did we buy the planet from? Our self-portrait is, to say the least, rather magnificent. We, as a race, own the whole thing."

Maybe it was the fact that I would be going back to work which caused my irritation. Maybe it was his tone. I attempted to hide my displeasure by raising my glass and taking a drink.

"Consider this, Al. When you arrive at the border to the United States of America is there a line that runs along the forty-ninth parallel? Perhaps North America looks like the maps you see. The grass south of the border side is a different color?"

"Why are you picking on me, Sam? Of course not." I am afraid my frustration was evident. Sam was unmoved.

"I am not picking on you. It seems that way because you accept the story you have been told as the reality. My goal is your conscious acceptance of the reality of your situation. The human race has dreamed itself. The dream is one of wealth. Humanity has told itself a story. It is nothing more than that. Trust me, there are no crow border guards who ask a migrating crow for a passport. Butterflies are free to travel as well. We have also agreed that there is an imaginary line which separates our two countries. It is an agreement, nothing more."

I went back to my drink, this time in an attempt to conceal my bemused expression. I did not question Sam's intelligence. My difficulty was that as his argument grew clearer, it became harder and harder for me to see its relevance.

Who cared if a crow crossed the border?

Sam studied me as I set my drink down. He appeared to come to a decision.

"People place such value on their lack of freedom. When one divides something into this and that, it serves make what is yours more important, if only to you. I told you that the Tonal operates by bestowing meaning and relevance to the surroundings. It divides things into yours and mine. The crows are free to come and go as they wish, Al. The chains of identity, whether they be in regards to you as an individual, or my neighbors as fellow Canadians, are worn as adornments. The other creatures who share our planet do not require passports."

I was once again reminded of the warmth of sunshine and silent knowledge.

"A simple rule of existence is that of immediacy. That which is present physically takes precedence over that which is not. In the end all one has throughout life is awareness. Ultimately you are everything you experience during your life. Evolution is, for the most part, driven by necessity. Take the Inuit and their forty words for snow. Understanding the snow conditions is necessary for their survival. It is an example of that very rule of immediacy. What you are watching on television is important, if only to you. What your neighbor is watching next door has no such relevance to you as a person."

I do not know my lack of comprehension was due to the alcohol or not, but I simply did not get it.

"I still do not understand how you could call money a dream." In the years that followed my respect for dreams would grow.

"As I have said, the Tonal assigns importance and separates things into yours and mine. In a personal sense we are simply talking about possessions. I told you once that we are free to claim whatever we want. When one takes into consideration the Tonal of man as a whole, we have done nothing less than claim ownership of everything. We then divvy it up amongst ourselves. Money, as a product of the dream of man, only has relevance to members of our species."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"When we discussed what was yours before our sweat I told you that the only thing that is truly yours is the freedom to shape your experience in any manner you choose. Your awareness is ultimately all you have. That freedom is yours for life, although your resulting awareness must be relinquished in the end. One is always free to dream."

I still did not see how you could live without money. Sam continued.

"The dream of man is one of ownership, wealth and value. Humanity builds office towers as a testament to a bankrupt spirit. The universe has a sense of humor. Realizing true wealth is the lesson humanity must learn. With each and every day that passes there is less oil, fewer trees on the ground, and less fish in the sea. With every new baby born, there is yet another mouth to feed, and our piece of what which remains is diminished even further." Sam's expression was severe. "Every creature on the planet has a unique, underlying dream as its foundation. Both you and I are human beings, and that being the case, we cannot escape our dream. What one can do is change what one considers to be of value. For a sorcerer the only thing of value is awareness."

The concept of money as a dream was still difficult to comprehend.

"I remember someone attempting to explain this to me as well. Now I simply find it fascinating how utterly incomprehensible the topic is. As a human being your dream is one of wealth. It makes your job a necessary evil. As a sorcerer I live in a sustainable environment. That is the true wealth of my own expression. I have a different attitude towards work."

He was obviously aware of the difficulty I was having. I went back to my glass, while he started humming a Christmas carol again. After a while he looked back to me and tried again.

"I restrict my social interaction as much as possible. I participate only to have my privacy and security. I do, for instance, own this piece of property. That is the agreement I have with my fellow man."

I told him I would take his word for it.

"Trust me, I don't own this land. To be honest, in reality it is the other way around, but my fellow man would not agree. The world which I inhabit holds a different agreement. That agreement is a result of the Tonal of Gaia, though I am human just the same. With our gift, we have been very generous, if with nothing other than ourselves. We own the whole world, and along with it every commodity and creature we can set our hands on." Sam snorted in derision. "For those creatures, although they suffer due to our aberration, the Tonal is not a curse. My dream is one of wealth regardless. Other species dream different dreams. They are aware that their environment comes first, and that through their environment they have a place to rest their heads, and thus the ability to dream."

His expression was very serious.

"If a storm blew through here right now, I could not walk outside and say, 'Excuse me Mr. Storm, this is my property, you will have to go elsewhere.' The curse the belief that the world works in that fashion."

And it was the most wonderful time of the year. I do not know if my irritation with Sam was gone due to his argument or the fact that I was now a little drunk. Once again, in some distant corner of my mind, there was understanding. For some reason I turned from that to denial.

"Well of course not, Sam." I argued. "Neither would anybody else I know. You are telling me that people believe the world works that way. If a storm blew through my hometown I would be inside, not arguing with it."

He simply nodded.

"Yes, I know you would." His eyes held a touch of amusement.

"Well your theory does not make sense." My glimmer of understanding vanished as I put forth my argument. His response was to change the topic completely.

"The dream of our species is one of wealth, and every day that goes by, our species has less and less." Sam caught my eyes with a level gaze. "So you have, of course, made funeral arrangements."

I was caught off guard. His eyes glittered as he leaned forward.

"Let me see, would you be cremated or buried?" He frowned as he contemplated my funeral. "No, it would have to be a coffin. You would want to leave something behind."

My drink was forgotten. What my death had to do with anything, let alone the dream of man, was beyond me. He did not let it go.

"So have you chosen a resting place, or will you leave that up to your family?"

I found my voice.

"What the hell does that have to do with anything, Sam?" I was offended.

"Of course people are aware of the futility of arguing with a storm, in the very same manner they are aware of their own mortality. We have developed systems to completely avoid that very reality. For the storm there is always insurance—for death an afterlife. Trust me, ninety percent of people you meet have absolutely no idea that they are going to die. The ones that do are usually the very old or those with a terminal illness. There is a way out of everything. One day your life will be over. That is a well-known inevitability that most people choose to ignore. A sorcerer embraces death in that knowledge, and chooses to live. And with my choice to live? I will embrace the dream and be wealthy," he pointed at my wallet, which was keeping the carving of the crow company on the coffee table, "although it has nothing to do with that." He looked at me once again, his eyes dark.

"We are as blind to the fact that we dream as we are of our own mortality."

And now I was dreadfully uncomfortable with our conversation.

"Death is an inevitability that is part of the agreement of life. A sorcerer lives with death as a companion. It is amazing the effect that deliberate knowledge of one's mortality can have. You should spend some time with the terminally ill. They are, for the most part, people who actually live."

His eyes held mine.

"Our place as part of nature will be realized or the human race simply will not survive. One day we will wake to that reality. Our dream will remain despite the cool light of morning, although until that time I doubt we will accept anything less than a crown. Our realizing our place as part of nature is as inevitable as death. Our current agreement is not sustainable. The question is what state of affairs the world will be in when that reality sinks home. It is a certainty. It is also something that our children and grandchildren will have to live with."

I did not know what to say. Sam took the initiative and poured us both another glass. He then went to work in the kitchen getting ready for dinner.

I was left to my own devices, with only my drink and my death as company.

Ghosts

If death was a companion I could only wonder if Sam found it good company. In regards to my own situation, it offered little in the way of comfort.

Sam continued with the preparations for our evening meal.

I spent the time on my own wondering about my host. I realized that I knew very little about him. I did not even know what he had done for work. I smiled at the thought of his business card, still secure in my wallet. It would be a keepsake, a reminder of our time together.

I also wondered about the company he kept. I was still rather upset at having missed whoever pulled my truck out of the ditch. They had given me my freedom, even if it was not something that I was taking advantage of at the moment.

Sam was a very intriguing individual, although he was often a very confusing one as well. I continued to struggle with the concept that he had summoned me. If that was true, and I had in fact been summoned, I could only wonder about his other relationships.

Perhaps in response to the incessant humming of Christmas carols, I took the initiative and went out to the truck to get some music. Sam had a small cd player which had gone unused up until that point. Sam offered no complaint as I put one of my favorite albums on. It had nothing to do with Christmas, but I settled back down on the couch with another drink while my music filled the cabin.

The day had passed quickly. Up until that point with Sam I was completely in his element. With my music playing I felt more at home. I wondered briefly about what he had said about the Tonal and the manner in which it bestowed relevance, as well as highlighting the distinction between 'mine' and 'yours'.

I suppose I considered the music my own. Sam was silent in the kitchen while my music played.

My mood lifted as dusk fell.

It was not as if our earlier talk had left my thoughts completely. The concept that money was a dream nagged at me. Even worse was the idea that it was art. Every time I thought about money as art I felt a sense of revulsion. I worked hard for my money, and if Sam was right, what was I working for?

I did not particularly like my job. Despite the memory of Sam's monolith and sunshine, the reality of dreaming was lost on me.

When Sam was done preparing Christmas dinner and all that was remained was the wait while it cooked. He joined me in the living room, obviously attentive to my musical selection. When the album ended I refrained from playing another and took out my guitar instead.

One of the nice things about alcohol is that I am less inhibited after a few drinks. Once again music filled the cabin, but this time it was truly my own. I went through four of my favorite songs, my voice strong and clear, before I set my guitar down.

I was very pleased with myself. What I was completely unprepared for was that Sam would follow suit with a performance of his own.

My performance at an end, Sam and I moved into the kitchen, and dinner was served. My plate featured a salmon fillet, which was delightfully cooked with a hint lemon. I needed something in my stomach other than the Jack. Sam was quite possibly the best cook I had ever met.

I was a little surprised when Sam told me that he needed some time to himself after we had cleaned up. I did still have a bottle to keep me company, so I simply nodded and took my seat on the couch while he put his coat and boots on.

When he opened the door the winter chill battled momentarily with the warmth from the fire. It had not warmed as the day passed, and I wondered why he would go out at that time of night, but I did not bother to ask why. I was content, and decided it was none of my concern.

Unfortunately that assumption was in no way correct.

I settled in with my drink. I again considered the job that waited for me back home. When I played for Sam I had been happy. I thought for a time about what Sam had said about awareness and investments.

For the most part I played for myself. If I invested time in my guitar where would it lead? I loved playing, and if it was the quality of awareness that I dedicated to my guitar that was important, perhaps the emotional awareness would yield results. Sam's emphasis on awareness was not really much of a mystery. If I practiced I would get better. I decided to dedicate more of my time to playing.

Perhaps I could summon a new career.

I also thought about what Sam had said about my guitar playing and my relationship with Sara. I could not deny the events which had brought about our introduction. What I struggled with was the idea that somehow my guitar playing was responsible for a different identity.

What if Sam was correct? What if the attention I had invested over so many Sunday afternoons had summoned a relationship?

I was occupied with these thoughts when the first note sounded. It was a single, clear note of a chime. The sound was new to the cabin, and I could not figure out where it came from. I did not register a breeze or a draft in the cabin. The chime rang clearly once again.

And then it changed.

A series of notes joined the first. It sounded almost as if they were coming from Sam's room. I considered investigating but was enthralled by the clarity of the sound. Note after note rang clearly, some in chords and others in syncopated rhythms. I hesitated to call it a song, as there was little in the way of a pattern.

Everything was in perfect harmony.

When the first voice joined the chimes I experienced a shiver which started at the base of my spine and worked its way up. I remained as still as possible, afraid that if I so much as moved it would stop. Other voices joined the first, creating a lovely, if random melody. There were no words, only harmonic notes, but that only made it all the more haunting.

I still could not pinpoint where the music was coming from. It was incredibly beautiful. I was moved almost to the point of tears. The melody shifted ceaselessly, quiet, yet slowly building as more voices joined in.

I have no idea how long this continued. I sat transfixed. The room seemed to fade until I floated upon a cloud composed of nothing but sound. And then, as mysteriously as it had begun, the voices began to fall silent. Those were followed by the crystalline chimes, which sounded a final time before fading into silence.

The music finished the way it had started, with the clear bell that had begun the whole performance.

When the final note had faded the cabin felt empty. The sudden silence seemed loud in comparison. I sat still hoping that it would start up again, to no avail.

I truly wished I could have shared the experience with Sara.

And with that thought all hell broke loose—literally.

"Yeah, you certainly fucked that up, didn't you—you worthless sack of shit."

The voice was clipped short and guttural, abrading my senses. I looked around for an antagonist but found myself alone. The hairs on the back of my neck raised and my heart started racing as fear set in. I had absolutely no clue what was going on.

I wondered if I was losing it.

"You never had it in the first place. You're fucking pathetic."

My body went into fight or flight response. I rose and prepared to face my antagonist, whoever it might be. I had been in any number of fights in my time, but I will admit that I had never experienced anything similar to the fear the voices inspired.

The fact that I was apparently alone only made it worse.

"Yeah your certainly alone now aren't you. Oh Sara, Sara, I am so sorry!"

A second voice had joined the first. This one was female, and as with the first it was filled with hate and malice. This time I could have sworn it came from the kitchen, but when I turned there was nobody there.

"All alone, and nobody to go home too."

And suddenly I was surrounded by the laughter of a score of voices, with insults hurled at me in between. In my panicked state I tripped over the edge of the couch and fell. This only added fuel to the abuse.

And then the screaming began. This time it sounded like it was coming from outside the cabin. The scream turned into a wail of despair and agony. I needed Sam... Omigod!—what if it was Sam who was screaming?

I picked myself up off the floor and raced to the door, pursued by a dizzying array of vulgarities.

"You're fucking dead..." My given name was turned into a revolting parody of a crying sheep.

I had no thought of putting on my shoes and coat—only escape. I opened the door, my breath coming in short gasps.

"My, you are as white as a ghost. Afraid of scary sounds, Al?"

It was Sam. My relief was palpable upon seeing him, but I was panicked and confused by his smile. Surely he had heard the screaming outside. I was in such a state that I could offer no response. He was alright, I told myself, that was the main thing. Sam observed me curiously for a moment before commenting.

"Do you mind if I come in, or would you like some more time to yourself?"

This did nothing to appease my terror. All I could do was shake my head and step back from the door. Even this was difficult because I felt the need to be as close to him as possible. I turned—looking for some sign of that which had traumatized me. The cabin remained silent and undisturbed.

I was looking in the wrong direction.

Sam stepped out of his boots and hung up his coat. I had no idea what to say or do, but was grateful when Sam took my arm and led me to the living room. I sat down, my breathing and heart rate gradually slowing.

Sam caught my eye and raised an eyebrow.

"From the looks of things you did not appreciate our performance."

I looked at him without comprehension. Silence hung between us as I attempted to process this information.

"Your..." I shook my head in an attempt to regain my mental facilities.

I tried again with little improvement. "You..."

I suppose he could not help it. He burst into laughter. Thankfully it was far removed from that which I had so recently experienced. The clear sound of his obvious mirth had the effect of dispelling the demons that lingered, which made room as it had so many times before for anger. His laughter subsided and he looked at me with shining eyes.

"I told you that the Tonal was art, Al. It can take any form."

My anger was doing battle with self-pity. All I could think to myself was that it was Christmas. He seemed to read me easily.

"Oh come now, it was not all bad was it?"

In my terror I had completely forgotten the celestial music. I was still off balance. It was if my mind had nothing to hold onto. For a moment I was actually afraid I would burst into tears.

I held my emotions at bay to the best of my ability.

"Are you serious, Sam?" At least I had found my voice. "That was you?"

He rose from his seat and offered me an elegant bow.

"I had some assistance. It was for your listening pleasure."

His lopsided smile was disarming. My mind raced as I went over our conversation earlier in the day.

"The Tonal is our Gift. It is our Curse. As people we believe that the picture we paint is reality. You have my word that the only danger you were in was in regards to your own response. You can call it a dream or an illusion. A dream is better, because if you consider it a dream, you have to admit that you have little control over the specifics. What you just experienced was a dream of my own creation."

Now it was the anger which held sway, shot through with self-pity. Sam seemed to sense the turn in my emotional state and raised an eyebrow.

"Remember the right side operates through agreement. You participated in the experience as well. What you went through is related to the face you described before you left town. I simply gave you a demonstration of my own Tonal."

I went from bewilderment to awe as I considered what he said. Once again his talks did little to prepare me for the experience itself. I could not have foreseen the terrifying reality of the dream, if that was truly what it was.

I could not have imagined the beauty which had preceded the nightmare.

"You can consider this another Christmas gift, Al. Now you have firsthand experience with both the Tonal and the Nagual. My intent was not to do you harm, you must understand. It would have been better, of course, if I could have reversed the order of my performance. It is yet another reason sorcerers refer to it is a curse. Unfortunately, for humanity anyway, negativity carries much more weight."

"You scared the living shit out of me, Sam." I had absolutely no idea how his performance had been accomplished, which made my confusion all the more profound.

The self-pity was now holding center stage.

"A sudden fright is good for the body, Al. Move away from your feelings and observe your body."

It took me a moment, but I did as he requested. My entire body was vibrating with a strange current. My thoughts seemed to be something separate, an irritating buzzing that receded as I focused on my body. My vision was extraordinarily sharp.

He took the opportunity to offer me another drink. He poured a stiff one this time.

"Try to relax and enjoy your drink, Al. I simply want you to experience the state you are in at the moment. I will leave you with one last thought."

Even his voice held layers of texture.

"This is my Tonal." He slapped his thighs to emphasize his point.

6

A Folly

The Deviant

The next morning I woke up with a bit of a hangover, but my boxing days had begun the same way for years. I had let my guard down when the bottle of Jack Daniels made its appearance. For a moment I had almost felt like I was home among friends.

The subsequent haunting re-affirmed my decision to take Sam seriously. It had been far from pleasant. The celestial music was something I would never forget. The subsequent haunting had been terrifying. I really had no idea how he had managed to invade my thoughts.

I considered what he had said about my own agreement in regards to the haunting. He said that the only danger had been in regards to my own response.

My sleep had been deep and dreamless, lending stability to my state of mind, even if I had grown all the more uncertain as to the nature of my host.

My introduction to the Tonal had been almost as debilitating as the breakdown after my introduction to the Nagual, but in regards to the Nagual I had been on my own. My experience with the Tonal was with other voices. I had been so off balance the night before I felt naught but relief when Christmas day had come to an end. While I lay in bed I dealt with both anger and a mild headache. I could not hold the anger. On some level I understood that I had been shown something crucial. I also understood that Sam was not being malicious.

The headache, on the other hand, lingered.

After brushing my teeth and making myself presentable, I emerged to face another day. He greeted me with a smile that dispelled my mood, but was of little help in regards to the hangover.

Breakfast came and went without excitement, which left Sam and I to entertain ourselves as we saw fit. Sam, for once, was not in a talkative mood. The conversation lay mostly in my corner, so I brought up the fact that I had spent a year backpacking alone in Australia before I got my job at the post office.

I spent some time telling him stories about my trip. While I shared my experiences with Sam I realized how much I missed the freedom. When you are home you always have to watch over your shoulder. You never know who is looking for dirt on you. The strangest thing was the speed at which new relationships develop when traveling. I believe it is due to the simple fact that if someone did not like what you had to say it was of little consequence. You could be yourself without fear, and if someone did not like it you would be gone in a week or two anyway.

I think that it was that very liberty which stimulated new friendships. I formed lasting ties in a fraction of the time that it would take to develop anything similar back home.

"I was wondering where your deviant behavior came from." Sam commented.

I had grown somewhat used to his pointed remarks, yet felt the need to defend myself anyway.

"What are you talking about? What deviant behavior?"

"When people play music they generally do so for the attention they receive from those they know. You have told me that for you it is very personal. It is what led you to playing for strangers at a coffee shop."

The memory of his own performance the night before lingered like the headache. I had obviously been the audience in that case. The result was that I now knew what it was like to hear voices. I looked at him warily as he continued.

"We also have," he took in the cabin with a wave, "your arrival here."

"What on earth does that have to do with deviant behavior, Sam?"

"Well many people like to travel, but for the most part they do it in the company of friends. The result of most people's complacency with the known is that they are generally doomed to wander it ceaselessly."

I had actually enjoyed traveling alone.

"And leaving your friends and family to spend time alone in a cabin, out in the middle of nowhere? I doubt you that you would call it normal behavior over the Christmas holidays."

"No, I suppose not." Then again, neither was tormenting your guests Christmas day.

"Most people would take comfort with those they are close to." Sam commented.

For some reason that had not been an option for me.

"Every experience one has in life contributes to their totality. One experience builds off the next. Anytime one faces the unknown, in whatever manner one encounters it, changes occur. New impulses are formed. This can cause anything from creativity to derangement."

"Oh so I am deranged, Sam?" I smiled despite myself.

"Maybe a little. You are also creative. The creative impulse is the domain of the Nagual—your inner landscape. A sorcerer, on the other hand, would say that wandering the same circle without end is derangement. Perhaps that is why we met. You wanted to meet another deviant soul."

At that we shared a laugh.

"So tell me about Australia."

I continued with stories about my trip, and for the most part Sam simply let me talk. I went over the places I had visited and some of the people I had met. At one point I had worked in a trailer serving kebabs. A friend that I had met while traveling was working with me at the time. We had shown up for work one day a little under the weather from drinking the night before. It was a weekend, and very busy. I spent most of my time working over the grill. As the day progressed I grew more and more tired. It got so bad I could barely keep my head up.

Finally I told my friend that I could not continue.

He took one look at me and told me to go wipe my sunglasses. I took about an inch of grease off them. Needless to say I was fine afterward.

Sam's laughter filled the cabin.

Taking heart from his gaiety I continued with another story regarding the same job. Whenever it slowed down our boss would send us out in front of the trailer and have us eat something. I was amazed at how effective this tactic was. If nobody was lined up out front we would not get any customers. With me and my friend standing out front people would line up behind us.

Sam did not seem surprised by this at all. His expression turned serious.

"Ah, yes, the herd." He commented.

I laughed again despite his expression.

"Yeah, I guess."

"There is a better term for a group of people, but let us stick with the herd for the moment. Language is both colorful and revealing. There is a gaggle of geese, a flock of sheep, and a murder of crows—different descriptions for different peoples. As you observed in Australia, humanity is no different in their herd mentality. We like to place ourselves above other animals. Unfortunately that attitude is a long ways off the mark. Other creatures are not cursed as we are. The world that sustains them comes before their own dream. What humanity takes from existence is in direct proportion to what humanity has lost. Furthermore, we are subject to the same predatory forces that are present throughout nature. My 'World of Appearances' is different from your own. In much the same way that most people are ignorant of the influence of crows, they are quite simply unaware of the forces which prey on us all."

I guess I had experienced something similar the night before. I had to argue anyway.

"Nothing feeds on us though, Sam."

He simply raised his eyebrows before responding, an amused expression on his face. "Oh no, of course not."

For some reason I found myself thinking of my lack of energy the day of the sweat.

He continued without explanation.

"Let us go back to your experience at the festival and what I have said about the Tonal. It is passive. It simply loves bodies following bodies. People lined up behind you for that very reason. A child learns to speak by mimicking those around them. Due to the fact that language is crucial to human endeavors, the inevitable result is that man leans toward the right side. When you left town to come out here, what you did was flee the herd. The herd wants us to follow without questioning. What you experienced before leaving home to come out here was the face of society. Your relationship was judged and found wanting. When you broke up with your girlfriend, her parents were vindicated. You validated the opinions of your friends and family. Hell, you even contributed and spent your time with people who knew you well. In a sense you won. The Tonal won. The face of society triumphed. You recognized this and tried to escape."

I groaned inwardly as he re-iterated his opinion of what had led to my break-up. I had gone over his analysis again and again, despite the pain it caused me. I had to admit that he might be correct.

"And here we are." Sam continued, catching my eye. "I insist on calling you 'Al' because I have nothing to do with that face. It has nothing to offer me, and I want nothing from it. I am spending time with you in hopes that you will learn to defend yourself. One cannot accomplish that without identifying the players."

Along with my acknowledgment of the power of Sam's methodology, came the acceptance of regarding society as an entity unto itself. I had to ask anyway.

"You are asking me to recognize society as a player?"

"Yes, one of many. Society is innocent in a sense. There are very real reasons why people behave the way they do. As I have said, the unknown is dangerous, and exploring it can cause deviant behavior. It can cause aberration, genius, or insanity. Usually what occurs is a combination."

I found myself thinking about my schizophrenic friend. I wondered what time between him and Sam would be like.

"Am I in any danger, Sam?"

"Well of course you are. That is part of the reason we are here together. I am doing what I can to prepare you to face something which you, yourself, have already identified. You had other options of course. You could have simply found comfort in the arms of those that knew you best."

I felt a deep sense of loss and sorrow. It was akin to the loss of Sara, but for some reason it was even more poignant. I had felt like my world had ended when Sara and I broke up. Now Sam was asking something of me that was even more encompassing. I really did not know what I was going to do upon my return. I had seen a face, and had found it disagreeable. The problem was that the face was an aspect of those I was closest too. Soon I would have to show mine once again and say 'hello.'

On a few occasions Sam had said that he was talking to my body. When I returned home I would find that some aspect of my being had changed in a profound manner.

"When an individual identifies society as a player they are inevitably offered a choice. If one is stubborn it can lead to an all-out war. Most simply give in, and that being the case, very few survive. Many people do exactly as you have and simply flee. Some flee inside themselves. You chose to run off into the woods. Unfortunately neither response is suitable. In the first case you are left incapable of dealing with the world around you. In the other, one is simply faced with an inevitable return."

The return was something I would be doing shortly. I found myself growing angry once again. Once again, I could not readily pinpoint the cause.

"Personally I think you should turn towards your art. I know you enjoy playing music. That is simply a suggestion of course."

It was the very thing I had considered the other night.

"You believe that would help in some way?"

"The seat of creativity is the left side. As I have said, the left side comes first—the goal is the right side. You do not go out for coffee with your friends, and say," Sam's voice rose in pitch and became that of a vapid blond, "'I was inspired for, like twenty minutes yesterday, it was fantastic!'"

Sam broke into a broad grin. "If you are inspired you paint a painting, or express yourself through some other creative outlet."

I had already promised myself that I would write a song in regards to treating life as art. For some reason the song was already present. I simply had to write it.

"Society is to the right of the individual. Society is, however, composed of individuals. A balance must be maintained. That is my investment through you. I told you that in a sense truth is irrelevant." Sam's eyes were calm and clear. "If one operates as part of society there is really no conflict, other than in regards to the pecking order. You will have to work out how to apply the time you spent with me for yourself. The simplest way of doing so is through your own work. You need to develop a platform from which you can function. There are neither right nor wrong answers, but in your situation you must supply an answer which is unique to your own mentality."

Silence settled as he allowed me time to mull that over.

"But I digress." Sam continued. "I have brought up what can occur when one wanders the unknown. The herd, in a sense, is attempting to protect itself. It isolates itself from that which it cannot control. The simple fact of the matter is that we need our pioneers. A species that does not evolve will inevitably perish."

Sam's expression was grim.

"You called me a deviant. I know I told you I went to Australia, but I get the feeling you are talking about something else entirely. Lots of people travel, Sam."

The memory of my dream and silent knowledge surfaced for some reason.

"They do so as part of the herd, Al." He looked over at my guitar and then back to me. "Let us simply take a few examples of genius into consideration. Consider Mozart, for instance. He was a genius was he not?"

Although classical was not to my particular taste, I prided my-self on having a cultivated musical palate. I had listened to Mozart, and he had definitely been a brilliant artist.

"Mozart wrote his friends and family describing the content and consistency of his feces in excruciating detail." Sam observed my expression, which consisted of me wrinkling my nose.

"You're serious?"

"Yes. Needless to say, most people do not find the topic agreeable."

"No I can see how they wouldn't."

"Another example of someone who strayed from the herd was Vincent van Gogh. In his case, however, the object of his interest was not excrement. He simply decided that part of his ear was out of place and removed it. In the end he wound up taking his own life."

I had a little warning light going off. He had, of course, called me deviant.

"And we cannot forget one of the most brilliant writers of the modern age. Nietzsche went hopelessly insane before he followed suit and ended his life as well."

"I have not read Nietzsche."

"You really should, Al. He was another of our pioneers."

I put it on my list of things to do.

"These are examples of genius. Many who wander the unknown simply do not survive. Others become murderers or rapists, or worse sorts of monsters. The herd defends itself and does not tolerate those who stray. Those who do are generally persecuted until their spirit breaks and they fall in line."

I could sense his frustration, though I felt the need to defend those I knew anyway.

"Well then they have a point, do they not?"

"Humanity has put the emphasis on life instead of living. What is the point in living a safe life if one has to do it wearing chains? The true limits of existence are set by one's own nature. I have attempted to describe the passive nature of the right side. Humanity is as much a part of nature as any other creature, and nature is predatory. In a passive state we are easy prey. Our lives are taken out of our own hands, our freedom and liberties are taken away, and the excuse is always that it is in ones best interest. The evolutionary progress of the human race has been effectively arrested."

Once again there was his odd reference to people as prey. I considered my haunting the night before and felt a touch of fear.

The other thing that eluded me was the distinction between life and living.

"What is the difference between life and living?"

Sam snorted in disgust.

"There was a parent in Toronto that was out with the children during a class in physical education. One of the kids kicked a soccer ball and it hit her in the head. The doctors diagnosed her with a concussion."

He leaned forward his eyes glittering darkly.

"The school boards response was to ban hard balls in the playground. This included soccer balls, base balls, and soft balls. Now they play with Nerf balls that cannot do any harm."

I had not heard of this before. My response to his statement mirrored his own. I was disgusted.

"Death is an inevitable part of life. Death is also one of the most profound moments. It is why a sorcerer keeps death as an advisor. There is no avoiding it. When ones emphasis on life instead of living, the life led is both safe and sterile. Even so, death is unavoidable, so the emphasis on life is pointless. I am as disgusted by society as I am sorry for the children. That mentality does not help children at all, even if it keeps them safe."

I really had no response. When Sam looked at me I could not read his expression. He broke our contact and shook his head.

"I have suggested adopting death as both a companion and an advisor. The human race has problems with negativity. We have discussed a young man who is afraid of dogs. When he gets bitten the dog is simply agreeing with him. How nice for both the man and the dog. We also discussed the despicable nature of witches and demons. Thank god for germs and viruses!"

I was once again left to wonder in regards to his own belief system. Sam simply shook his head once again.

"I do not want to get into a theological discussion with you. Try to ignore what you consider the truth for a moment. Our doctors tell us we should wash our hands three times a day. It is our little exorcism, with a bar of soap instead of a bible. Everybody has their antibacterial wipes."

I was more than a little curious as to where this was heading.

"Children have not simply lost their baseballs, their softballs, and their soccer balls. Now they cannot even come into contact with peanuts before going to school."

"I have heard about peanut allergies, Sam."

"It is because we sterilize everything. In the same manner that going to the gym creates a stronger physique, if our immune system works out, it gets stronger as well. Disinfecting everything does not help. Allergies are becoming more and more common, due to the simple fact that we sterilize everything. Have you ever seen a bird fly into a gutter and take a drink?"

I nodded.

"Would you?"

"Well I do not have a beak."

My comment elicited a laugh. Sam nodded in approval and continued.

"It does not matter whether you are a religious individual, or whether you believe devoutly in the presence of these tiny invisible troublemakers. It was one of the reasons for my performance last night. We need our witches, our germs, and our demons. Children need their soccer balls and baseballs."

I was once again puzzled by his insistence in drawing a correlation between science and religion.

"We have placed life above living. We like to consider ourselves above nature. There is no escaping ones mortality. We believe if we keep ourselves safe from harm we will be better off. The truth of the matter is quite the opposite. We are part of nature, and the more pristine our bodies are, the more toxic the environment becomes. Our emphasis on life, health, and safety, will yield a very different result."

"Huh." It was the only response I could offer.

"The same impulse in humanity leads us to embrace the right side and reject the left. It is part of the reason that people have issues with negativity. We believe everything will be fine if everyone is agreeable. The young man who is afraid of dogs simply has his fear validated. Your own relationship fell apart due to similar reasons."

Sam caught my attention, holding my emotions at bay.

"In the same way that the right side is not necessarily a good thing, there is nothing inherently wrong with the left. The right side is our Tonal. The problem is that we have placed our dream above that which sustains it. It is the same impulse which places society above the individual. We are as much a part of nature as any other creature. We have discussed the left side of existence, to the extent that it is possible. Ultimately it can only be experienced. You cannot tame nature, any more than you can stop an earthquake or avoid a tornado. In the end we are all mortal, and you cannot do anything about that either. It is not possible to control the Nagual."

If what had gone on last night was an example of the Tonal, I was far more concerned about the right side.

"I told you that humanity is an aberrant artist. The Tonal has no inherent meaning in and of itself. The Nagual is the seat of all creativity. We have wandered so far off course that even our creativity has begun to suffer."

I had to interrupt.

"But you told me that the Tonal was art, Sam."

"Creativity is the domain of the Nagual. It manifests through the Tonal. The Nagual is the creative force. Art is simply expressed through the Tonal."

I think my expression showed that I did not really understand.

Sam sat up strait, his expression changed, and he pretended to flip through a folder on the coffee table. When he spoke his voice was nasal and whiny.

"Well we need a new Hollywood blockbuster. What do people like these days?"

He cocked his head as if listening attentively. All I heard was the fire.

"Explosions. Yes! People like explosions. We need a few of those."

He cocked his head once again, listening attentively.

"Fuzzy animals. Definitely! Maybe a few bear cubs?"

I found myself thinking of the disappointment I had felt when I watched Jar-Jar Binks in the new Star Wars movies.

Once again he cocked his head and listened to some voice I was not privy too. He then shook his head as if amazed.

"A sex scene. Yes, yes! People like sex scenes."

He flipped through his imaginary folder once more.

"Oh that's brilliant. There is our movie. A few explosions, some fuzzy animals, and a sex scene! We will make millions!"

I was entertained by his performance, if uncertain of the reason for it.

"That is where your fellow man is heading. Who can argue? It is what people like, of course. It is also a sterilized, collective agreement. It is also crap. The Tonal manifests art, yet it cannot create anything. Any story worth telling comes from within. It comes from the Nagual. If you have a story to tell, people may like it or they may not. A story from the heart is ultimately worth much more than a wad of bills."

My guitar was beside me on the couch. I felt rather protective. Sam went on.

"The worst thing about it is that social control is an illusion. One's nature cannot be neither imprisoned nor controlled. Death is part and parcel of the agreement of life. The more pristine you keep your system, the more toxic the environment becomes. The Nagual is always present. We have all heard of the story of the neighbor who snaps. People's response is inevitably... 'He seemed like such a normal guy.'"

I had heard that story more than a few times.

"Well then what is the answer, Sam?"

"One must keep death as a companion, and face life alongside it. It is our mortality that lends life meaning. Certainly children can play with Nerf footballs, and be completely safe, but that is not living. Adversity promotes growth, and the nature of existence is predatory. Remember your insurance advertisement? 'Unfortunately, life happens.' Life is unpredictable and dangerous, though that is also part of what makes it enjoyable."

It was a concept I would carry with me throughout the years that followed. I still could not imagine hanging out with death on a daily basis.

"Have you ever listened to children when they are out shopping with their parents? Some will wail and cry, others will run through the store and sing. Do you see any adults behaving that way?"

All I could think of were handicapped people, but that was obviously not his point.

"We learn proper conduct and social conventions as we grow up. It is necessary to understand that there is no 'right' way to behave. We are always doing it wrong. It is more important to express one-self. In regards to the world around us we are the right side. You are a unique voice, and as a result you have something to say. For the most part we are taught to fear our personal expression because some will inevitably find it unacceptable. Of course it is! What one person enjoys another may very well find repulsive. When we stem our personal expression for the sake of propriety, pressure will inevitably build."

He looked rather sad.

"One day your perfectly normal neighbor snaps and murders his family."

My mind was awhirl with witches, germs, and bloodstained hands.

"We have fallen to our curse. In humanities insecurity it sought control. That control is, of course, an illusion. Death is an inevitability. We are part of nature, and that being the case, we are subject to the same predatory forces as any other animal. That is a topic we will explore shortly."

He considered momentarily before continuing.

"I am trying to tell you that you have a deviant soul. You backpacked around Australia on your own for a year. I told you that anytime one faces the unknown new impulses develop. Society needs a home. It needs familiar people in order for it to manifest. You traveled without a hand to hold."

To be honest our conversation had me more than a little worried.

"The result of your travels was you winding up here, with me. It took the trauma of your break up for you to see the face of society. If you had not traveled you would have sought comfort in those very arms."

And I felt the cold hand of despair.

"They say ignorance is bliss, Al. I doubt you will be content until you find understanding."

I really had nothing to add to the conversation. The understanding would only come after my departure.

Monkey Me, Monkey You

The remainder of the morning passed uneventfully. Sam busied himself with minor chores around the cabin, while I was left to my own devices. I wrestled with the concept that society had a body, and that it was a body that an individual could inhabit. Sam seemed to consider the planet a person as well, one who Sam referred to as Gaia. Sam's concept of Gaia and that of the social body both were related in some way.

I spent some time considering what it meant to be alive.

Sam had suggested adopting death as a companion. When I turned my attention to my own mortality I realized that he was correct. The concept of death was not something I embraced; it was something I avoided at all costs. If death was an inevitability, avoiding the issue was pointless. When I considered my own mortality I came to same realization that the sorcerers must have come to.

Death was one of the few certainties is life. Death was a companion whether you acknowledged it or not.

So why not acknowledge it?

My thoughts returned to society once again. When Sam talked about life he described it as a voice. Could society actually have a voice of its own? Could something without an independent body actually be considered alive?

I gained further insight into the sorcerers catch phrase—And Yet.

Sam took his seat across from me, interrupting my musings and breaking the silence. It was as if he were responding to my unspoken thoughts, which made me nervous when I recalled the previous night's haunting.

"When one is born the social body has not yet developed. I want to reiterate that point. The social body develops in regards to those a child associates with. Our predilection to lean to the right is a result of humanities reliance on language."

"And language is the result of agreement." I commented

Sam beamed in approval.

"The young man who is afraid of dogs is more likely to get bitten. It is not a riddle, and it is not that complicated. A dog's growl needs no translation. Language is not a necessity for communication. Unfortunately our reliance on language leaves us deaf to languages others than those of our own. The result of the path of a sorcerer is separation from the collective body of the human race. That separation is no easy task. It leads to the sorcerer's development of a very different social body; one in which voices other than those of our own species take on new relevance."

I considered what Sam had said about the language of crows. Soon I would be returning home. Much like my eventual demise, the return was an inevitability. I experienced a moment of self-pity. I had made the decision to take Sam's path seriously, and the prospect of how I would conduct myself upon my return home was in question as a result.

I thought about my emotional state before I wound up on Sam's porch. Before I had knocked on his door I had the distinct impression that something was waiting for me.

I suppose is was Sam who was waiting, but how could he know I would arrive? It was also possible that what was waiting for me was my identity as 'Al.'

I had to wonder if one was separate from the other.

For some I felt like an animal backed into a corner. The memory of my nametag and being stalked by a cat surfaced. Did I want the cage? I came to the strange conclusion that I was facing a form of death in Sam's company. I was uncertain if escape was possible. I could only wonder if my social body would survive.

At the moment I was 'Al.' I had the impression of quiet laughter in some dark recess of my mind.

"But why is the separation necessary, Sam?"

"I told you that self-awareness is the goal. We define ourselves in relation to others. We simply cannot survive without other voices. If your agreement is with society then it is society that holds your ticket. A sorcerer holds a foreign agreement, and as a result a different social body. In reality everything is a live show, which responds actively in regards to its participants. If you are deaf and dumb it is a boring show."

Sam paused for a moment before continuing.

"In essence, that was what my performance last night was about. I did not mean you any harm." The memory of my haunting was clearer than I would have liked. "In essence reality is fluid, the result of which is that the universe guides an individual to their true potential. True self-awareness requires taking everything into consideration, not just other members of the species. The modern human expression is doomed to fail. There is really no choice involved, if in the end ones existence is at stake."

"But you have told me that death is an inevitability, Sam."

Sam nodded in response, his expression serious.

"We all die many deaths throughout life. Your relationship with your girlfriend is but one example. That being said, if ones expression is self-sustainable, as mine is, the end need not approach any time soon."

I thought about everything I had heard about climate change. Canada had the oil sands, which apparently could be seen from space.

On some level I knew that what Sam was saying was true. With my inevitable return home approaching I came to the conclusion that changing my behaviors would be no easy task. Perhaps that was the problem.

"Do you think there is something wrong with humanity, Sam?"

Sam started laughing quietly.

"There is nothing wrong with the spirit of man, Al. It is not following that spirit which causes issues. I told you about the sorcerer's faith. An alcoholic who drinks everyday will change or die. The human race will make its own choices, and we will decide our own fate. If people cannot change? Our existence will reflect that choice. Ultimately I am a human being as well, and if my relationship with my fellow man is not sustainable, then my inevitable end will come."

Sam paused for a moment and then caught my eye.

"They have done studies with children and their dolls which focus on the concept of sharing. What was discovered is that an infant is inclined to share, and receives pleasure from the act. In the study, when a child was given treats, such as animal crackers, most children would offer the doll their own, and then clap and laugh happily as the doll appeared to consume them. A child has no knowledge of greed. That is before the social body develops, before ownership becomes a both a reality and a goal. Childhood is a state where one's own pleasure is on par with the pleasure of that of another. It is an indication of the true wealth of the human spirit."

I found this topic one of necessity if I was going to accept the ticket that he had offered. Sam observed me quietly for a moment. I am certain my interest was obvious.

"They have also done studies with monkeys. Primates are our cousins on the evolutionary ladder. Those studies involved a pole attached to ropes that two monkeys could pull if they co-operated. There were two banana's placed on platforms that were the reward for their joint effort. In the end the monkeys lived up to the ideal—they co-operated and received their reward. That ideal was lost when one of the bananas was removed. The monkeys did not share, and therefore did not co-operate. The result was that both monkeys went without."

I was very curious what how all this related to children and society.

"When children are young they are dependent upon their parents. As adults we are dependent on our environment. I told you that the right side is both our gift and our curse. Greed is learned behavior. It is not our true nature. A sorcerer, realizing this, simply returns to an original state. A sorcerer therefore cultivates the environment. We are all children of Gaia. In our original state another's pleasure is equal to our own. When the social body begins to develop, so does the concept of ownership. It is a result of our dream of wealth. When a child begins to understand language, and they have to struggle for what is theirs, the social body begins to develop. The joy experienced when one share's is replaced by the desire for possessions."

I nodded to show I was following.

"Let us return to the study of the monkeys for a moment. You can consider that an example of the human social situation. That being said, we are not monkeys. If two people were involved in the same study, they would probably co-operate and share part of a banana. Monkeys may be cousins on the evolutionary tree, but they are also different species, and as such they dream a different dream. Our relationships are far more complex. That being said, the human expression is one of a consumer. It revolves around the belief that the dream of man is the reality. The goal of a sorcerer, as a result of being human, is wealth." He gestured broadly taking in the cabin. "I have wealth. True wealth is also the realization that enough is enough. It is not something that can be easily realized in social situations, where the goal is always to have more. When involved in the rat race," Sam's emphasis was on the word rat for some reason, "there is never enough, and like the monkeys we are forced to struggle for that which is ours."

I truly wished I did not understand the need for the separation.

"The human expression places its dream above all else, and the unfortunate reality is that our species is not becoming wealthier. We build office towers as a testament to a bankrupt spirit. I have told you on a number of occasions that the left side comes first—the goal is the right side. When we define our wealth in regards to our fellow man the environment suffers. If we were to cultivate the environment, we would realize true wealth."

Sam's expression was serious.

"There is no escaping our dream. A sorcerer is a member of the human race as well. The right side exists through agreement, and the path of a sorcerer yields a different agreement altogether—a different value system. The dream of wealth remains. The change occurs in regards to what one considers to be of value. Awareness is the currency of a sorcerer, and that being the case, a sorcerer courts a fluid reality. The goal is growth and development. The social agreements that holds the world in regards to ones fellow man is untenable for a sorcerer. In regards to the social expression there is never enough. For a sorcerer there is plenty."

He raised his eyebrows to emphasize his point.

"People have the ability to raise animals, tend fields, and plant foods for sustenance. We have the power to create a paradise of our own. Like monkeys with their inability to share, we squander that potential in our struggle to climb the social ladder. A sorcerer adopts an agreement separate from that taught by our peers, and a new perspective yields different insights. We need very little. We do not need i-phones, computers, Gucci watches, or Guess jeans. That is all part of the social expression. What one does need is shelter, food, and clothing, and occasionally the warmth of good company."

Sam took in the surroundings once again with a wave.

"I have wealth through my association with you. What more do I need?" At that moment I felt that what I needed was more time. "We have all we need. That is the reality of our situation. What most people do is consume and consume. The human dream engenders want and greed. It is possible to create wealth through our environment. People are the spiritual beggars of the universe. Is it not fitting that our dream would be one of wealth? If it were possible for a sorcerer to simply enjoy the abundance of existence, and exist as part of society, all would be good. The sorcerer's separation from the social ideal creates a threat to the social body. It creates an agreement which competes with the rest. It invalidates the established reality of the human condition, while at the same time acknowledging the dream. People who question the established human 'World of Appearances' are persecuted until they fall in line. It allows us to behave as we please. Present day society is not sustainable. It is something everyone knows on some level, and that is why any foreign perspective is considered a threat. We would be forced to face the reality. People who question the establishment are a threat. The result is that people defend that aberration and place the dream of wealth above all else."

Sam held my eyes.

"Admitting one is wrong is a lost art. A sorcerer see's the reality and vanishes from society without creating so much as a ripple. You will assist me in that escape, through my investment in you. A sorcerers exit goes unnoticed, and as nothing is lost, the sorcerer escapes into abundance. The result is freedom, which is a form of wealth we all strive for, but one very few people realize. It is an unrealized ideal in regards to social membership."

Sam's argument was as coherent as it was difficult to accept. The ramifications of what he was saying would only take shape after years of my own observation.

"I hear what you are saying Sam, but I still do not understand." I believe I was looking for a way out.

Sam looked at me with a lopsided smile.

"Of course not. Throughout your life you have held the ticket of your social membership. I am describing a world that you have lived in but never truly experienced. My offer to you is one of abundance rather than one of want and need. Up till this point those wants and needs were satisfied through those you associate with."

I was confused.

"How do you expect me to help, Sam?" There was an appeal in my voice.

Sam held my eyes once again.

"I expect you to be the very best you can be. Anything else is of little value. When you arrived on my doorstep you arrived at a crossroads. You will leave in a few days and once again take your place as a member of society. You will have a very different outlook upon your return. I have created a foundation for you from which you can observe your fellow man. What is offered in life is freedom, and as a result you will make your own decisions. I have been addressing your body throughout our relationship, not your mind. I do not expect you to accept my offer without question, which complements the fact that the body asks none. When you leave you will judge the validity of my argument through your own experiences."

Sam looked away and continued.

"I told you that the right side operates through agreement. People create the world they inhabit through agreement and expectation. Those two qualities hold the fluid nature of existence fixed in place. When an individual interacts with a fluid reality the inevitable result is that they achieve their potential."

"Sam, you keep referring to a fluid reality. What do you mean by that?"

"Believe it or not everything happens live. Underneath normal, everyday reality is something which is fluid like that of a dream. The fixed nature of waking consciousness has a dream as its foundation. We must sleep and dream in order to achieve waking consciousness, it is not the other way around. The left side comes first, but the goal is the right side."

Sam fell silent for a moment before continuing.

"Consider what you go through when getting ready to face the day. You get a shower and wash your hair, you use the toilet, and you make yourself presentable. An average individual thinks that when they go out, people will see them nicely shaved with an attractive hairstyle. A sorcerer understands something slightly different, though in the end little changes other than the emphasis. What people really see is the awareness and attention that one puts into getting ready. That attention and effort is in no way separate from ones appearance."

Throughout our conversations Sam had drawn no line between spirituality and physicality.

"The right side assigns value to items in our environment, but it has no intrinsic value of its own. Money is used to represent ones expertise. Looking nice is worth a great deal, but it is attention one puts into getting ready which yields a nice appearance. Our dream is both a gift and a curse. The curse is the crown. The curse is thinking that our dream comes before that which sustains it. I told you that human evolution has been effectively halted. A static reality does not engender change. Your appearance is a result of the awareness and attention you have placed on looking presentable."

For some reason I was haunted by the vision of rubble and a doorframe. I could only wonder if it was possible to live in a reality completely of your own creation. Perhaps that was what he was attempting to say about our dream of wealth and value. I had firsthand experience in a reality of my own creation while I was dreaming. I had no argument to the contrary.

Sam looked back at me, his eyes dark and serious.

"The monkeys have a valid reason for behaving as they do. For those primates survival is an endless struggle. As people we are more capable and pampered, which has a tendency to mask our own struggle. Whether you are a child fighting for the rights to a swing in the park, or a flower struggling for some sun, adversity is a constant. It is what inspires the best in us. What I am trying to bring to light is that we have the potential create a different reality altogether. Monkeys do not share. As people we possess the capacity to achieve that which monkeys do not. That capacity is a form of wealth all on its own, and can be used to the benefit or detriment of all."

He held my attention.

"We choose to act as monkeys instead. We are monkeys with i-pods and cellular phones. We are peasants with trucks. We follow the nature of greed and want, rather than working towards our own survival and the cultivation of our own dream. For most animals that greed is a necessity for survival. For mankind it is not. A sorcerer is a gardener, and a sorcerer therefore tends the environment that offers sustenance. Therein lies true wealth. In return a sorcerer cultivates a sustainable agreement. I am not disputing the necessity of work. What I am saying is that people have the ability to achieve their own dream, though one's social membership makes it virtually impossible. The problem is that we do not realize the potential of our nature, and act as monkeys instead. Like the children in the studies I described, the nature we were born with happens to be a different expression altogether."

He looked over at my guitar with a smile.

"I told you the right side differentiates between mine and yours. Life is selfish by nature, but that does not deny the development of those you know. True selfishness includes the health of others. That is what the nature of the modern social body is missing. A colony of bee's pollinate thousands of flowers. In return for their effort they receive sustenance. If humanities true nature was realized, people would act in a similar nature. We would cultivate the environment, and in return we would realize the abundance of nature. For most there is never enough. There is such a thing as a win-win situation. In our conflict with each other we only realize the need for victory. In order to achieve that victory, someone must inevitably lose."

At that moment all I could think about was hockey.

"Eternity is now. It is a puzzle with countless pieces that can be put together in endless variety. To the right is the individual. In regards to the Tonal there is gain and loss. One can make millions of dollars or live as a homeless man on the street. We are slivers of eternity. The limits are set by one's own nature. To the right of the individual is society. In order for society to truly benefit, the true nature of man must both be realized and understood."

He looked at me with a bright smile.

"When one is born into the world what one is offered is freedom. You can be anything you desire, though your options are dictated by your own nature. You choose a hobby, you find a job, and throughout life you can refine your nature and decide what is of value to you and what is not."

Sam rapped his head with his knuckles.

"People generally have a continual internal dialogue with themselves. Who are we talking too? The mind is yet another example of freedom. One can think whatever one wants. They key is to apply the mind in a productive manner. It requires putting the left side first. The mind is also why the mirror that most people inhabit is of little value, other than as a tool of self-reflection. That reflection is not the truth. That which nature has to offer sustains us all. True thought arises from the environment itself. The thoughts in our mind, being the product of our own creation, provide no such sustenance."

Sam had said that we were feeding on ourselves. When I turned my thoughts to my relationship I realized that in some way I had acted in the same manner. I could only wonder who had benefited from my loss.

"The monkey embodies a selfish expression. The generosity of a child is an expression of true wealth, though that wealth is inevitably lost as the social body develops. Our interaction with other members of society leaves us wanting. A sorcerer looks around and realizes that he is already in possession of everything he needs. Would you give that up in return for your place in the pecking order? It is contrary to our own dream."

His eyes held not but clarity. "I would not."

Silence fell between us as I pondered Sam's statements.

"Consider this for a moment. You were pleased with the bottle of Jack Daniels that I opened the other day. It is possible to get drunk due to the very limitation of the physical body. Alcohol is a poison, albeit a pleasant one. Freedom, in a sense, is achieved through limitation. An alcoholic that drinks a bottle of Jack Daniels every day will either change or die. The dream of the humanity is no different. Our dream will either be realized by society, or it will fail. Sorcerers realize that dream in the here and now, and therefore eternity is theirs. "

He observed me for a moment, his expression hard.

"As a species we are going slowly broke. With every day that passes and every newborn baby to feed we have less and less. The dream of humanity is one which is failing. There are many reasons for a sorcerer to separate himself from the social body." At that moment Sam was looking out the window. "If an individual can get drunk due to the limits of the human body, then one can realize wealth by accepting ones limitations as well. I live in abundance, why would I sacrifice that in order to be consumed by want, and in the end have less?"

"Are you suggesting that I dream a different dream?"

Sam shook his head with a slight frown.

"That is not possible. You and I are both members of human race, and therefore the dream is ours by nature. The human dream of wealth and value is not one that can be escaped. What is possible is to place ones value on something other than coins, paper, and credit. I have told you what a sorcerer holds dear."

His eyes met mine once again in askance.

"Awareness." Was my response.

Sam nodded in agreement, his eyes bright once again.

"A sorcerer places all his value on knowledge, awareness and perception. When one prepares to face the day it is the effort and attention invested in getting ready which results in one's appearance. Children know that the pleasure that another experiences is rewarding personally. That is a win—win situation. If you have more room, then I have more room as well. That is another example. The universe covets self-awareness, and in the end all a sorcerer can is realize the wealth of the moment. If others realize true wealth as well? That is better for all."

Sam completed his talk with a comment that I found rather surprising.

"Existence is composed of two completely contradictory statements that are both, nevertheless true. That holds true in regards to human nature as well. The bible says that the number of man is six. The social expression is a selfish one, but what it is necessary to realize is that true wealth is the selfishness of a child. Most people are selfish irresponsibly. The only thing they care about is themselves. At the very same time, the only thing people care about is what others think of them."

I considered this for a moment and realized that the two ideals were impossible. Sam caught my eyes with a rather stern expression.

"Consider the win-win situation, Al. When a bee pollinates a flower, they receive sustenance in return. That is yet another example of the blue-cat philosophy. If one individual has more room," he gestured expansively, "we all have more room."

I had to admit, most of my social interactions had both a winner and a loser.

"There is an appropriate term for a group of people, Al. There is a gaggle of geese, a flock of sheep, a herd of cows, and a murder of crows."

His expression was once again hard. I would consider his next comment for a long time.

"There is a better term for a group of people than a herd—the appropriate term is a folly."

A folly of humans.

A Loaf of Bread

Later in the day Sam suggested we take some air. I had just about frozen solid Christmas day, so I was not really looking forward to the excursion. I was relieved when my reservations proved unfounded.

It had warmed up a great deal.

Sam had brewed some tea, which we took outside. Sam was silent, content to sip his drink. Once again I marveled at how the scenery inspired reflection. I found myself wondering if I would have been as receptive to Sam if my circumstances were different. As it was, there were times I felt like a fish on a hook.

Hey, why not struggle?

"Sam, I cannot come to terms with the idea that money is a dream." Although it had warmed, my breath still misted the air when I spoke. I was thinking about my job. I could not say that I enjoyed it. What I did appreciate was the money.

If Sam was right what was I working for?

"That bothers you, Al? Dreams can be very real. One thing that must be realized in life is that purpose is a personal thing. What is offered is freedom, although that freedom is often difficult to realize. As I have said, the gift is the ability to dream. Whether you consider yourself to be wealthy or not, in the end, is up to you. One acquires self-awareness by observing both the environment and those who you associate with. A sorcerer adopts the blue cat mentality." Sam took in the surroundings with a familiar gesture. "This is our sliver eternity. It is but a single cabin, since we are the only two people present, this moment is about the two of us, but our awareness is part of the universe just the same."

I suppose it was the part I was aware of.

"In essence we all work towards a dream. We are all unique, and do to that our dreams differ slightly. Everyone inhabits a 'World of Appearances' of their own imagining. Ultimately it is a dream. The question winds up being where yours fits in. And the universe wants to know. The dream of a sorcerer is simply of their own choosing."

Sam looked at me with a serene expression.

"My goal is very simple. I accept both my humanity and the dream which serves as a foundation. Some people sing, some people dance, but we all contribute." He took in scenery with another sweep of his hand. "This is my wealth. It is different for everyone. In the end my dream is no more valid than anyone else's."

For some reason I found that hard to accept. I was not satisfied with his answer.

"I work hard, Sam. Most of the people I know work hard. If you are correct what am I working for?"

Sam looked up with a smile.

"To establish your place in the folly, of course."

"No, Sam, I work for the money."

He appraised me for a moment.

"Do you like your job, Al?"

"No, not particularly."

"Then quit."

"Well what would I do for money?"

"You do not need money."

"Alright, how would I pay rent? What would I do for food?"

"You live in a homeless shelter and eat at a soup kitchen."

"And how would I cloth myself?"

"The Salvation Army regularly gives out cloths."

I shook my head emphatically.

"That is not acceptable, Sam."

His eyes twinkled merrily.

"What, wearing second hand clothes?"

"Yes, for one thing."

He took in my jacket and other apparel with a glance.

"You like to dress well."

"Of course I do."

"And why is that? Why is it important to wear fancy clothes?"

Yes, the fish metaphor was very appropriate.

"I think it is important to look good."

His eyes held not but amusement.

"You simply like impressing the ladies. As I said, you want to establish your place in the folly."

I grit my teeth.

"You like to go out to the bar, have a few drinks, and socialize with your friends in your nice cloths. You have an apartment because it is a pleasant place to entertain. You like to decide what you are going to cook for lunch."

His eyes held mine.

"It is not necessary. We are all judged and assigned our place. I told you, as a member of society your ticket is written. It is the very thing that led up to your departure from home. It is why you wound up at my door."

I was very torn. I was not about to do away with an apartment and wear second hand clothes. I was also enjoying Sam's company, apparently because I had been summoned. I had been in love with Sara, and she was gone regardless. If Sam could assist his help was more than welcome. I was not willing to lose love again as a result of my own insecurity.

I also had a very difficult time accepting that as the reason for my loss.

He fell silent and went back to his tea. I attempted a different argument.

"You would not give up this place, Sam."

"I do not have to. I do not have any debt. I pay my taxes, and until some foreign invader or the government backs out on their own agreement, and takes what I have worked for, I have my privacy and peace of mind. I have what I require."

"I would like to see you try being homeless."

"Oh, I did, Al. I experienced what it was like. Of course I did not restrict myself to the soup kitchens. I spent a great deal of time begging."

This revelation stunned me.

"Your serious, Sam?"

"I chose to be homeless for two years. Other than what was given to me, my account balance was zero."

I must admit, I was stumped.

"Did you wind up broke for some reason?"

"No, I gave everything I had to charity. I believe it was," Sam thought for a moment, "World Vision. Ten dollars for lunch here will feed someone for a few weeks in other parts of the world. The money was not wasted, I assure you."

Sam took another sip from his tea.

"In order to realize wealth it is necessary to be destitute. It changes ones perception of wealth."

I sat for a moment in silence. I attempted to convince myself that it was another one of Sam's jokes, but there was no subterfuge in Sam's voice. After brief spell Sam continued.

"I am not talking to you to hear myself speak, Al. I am sharing with you what I have lived and what I know. These are not flights of fancy."

Perhaps for the very first time I saw the scope of the person I was dealing with.

"I truly believe that money is an illusion. A loaf of bread is worth a few dollars here. You would be surprised at how valuable a loaf of bread is to a starving man. Rental prices for a park bench are not that bad either."

I was not ready to quit struggling.

"I simply cannot accept that it is a dream, is all."

He considered me briefly before continuing.

"I know. What you must understand is that ultimately wealth is a beautiful thing. Most people go through the motions unaware, which makes the dream vulgar instead. They go to work day after day to establish themselves in the folly." I had a vision of chickens in a chicken coop. "We do what we believe we must. We do not have to do anything but eat, sleep, and stay warm. It is difficult to understand that our 'World' is our own creation. Who really owns any of this, Al?" Both my attention and his own was on the scenery. "My deed says I do. One does not control a dream any more than a fish controls the ocean around it."

I had to laugh when he brought up the fish.

"You said a sorcerer chooses his dream."

"A sorcerer chooses where to swim. That is all."

That effectively ended my argument.

"Even the best investor can be hit hard by the random nature of existence. Money is a dream like any other. If it makes you feel any better our dream of wealth is based on something tangible." He once again took in the scenery with a wave. "Our wealth is this beautiful world we inhabit. We are also limited by the very same thing."

His eyes remained on his property, if he thought of it as such.

"The only thing of value we have, in essence, is the world around us. If you look at the net wealth of the world you will find that it has grown exponentially over time. You can rest assured that we were wealthier four thousand years ago. Modern society is a debtor racking up expenses on a credit card. We pay our debts on time. As I have said, the natural resources of the world are being diminished day by day. With every new mouth we have to feed our share of this beautiful world becomes smaller."

His expression was grim.

"One day we will wake from our own dream, only to find that what we had placed value on was worth little in the end. Ultimately it is up to the individual to realize their own wealth. The rest can do as they please."

I could not deny what he was saying about physical resources. Sam was gently reeling me in, and I was growing rather tired of the fight.

"Value is relative, and assigned by ones Tonal. The Tonal is like a magic wand, one simply waves it and presto—you assign value! The doctor is more important to society than the homeless man. I told you, the wealth of a sorcerer is awareness. A homeless man is as aware as a doctor. Their knowledge simply encompasses different things. I can tell you from experience that being homeless is by no means easy. The child who dies at the age of three is aware. The grandfather who lives to one hundred is as well. One has neither any more, nor any less."

I could not help thinking of how Sara's parents had treated me at dinner that night.

A crow settled on a branch and dislodged some snow. It gave two sharp caws.

Sam waved at it lazily.

"Those people live without money, Al. They survive admirably. Do you really think that you are any different?"

I watched the crow for a while. It contributed once again, with three caws. I wondered briefly if he truly understood what they were saying.

"Well maybe I will just decide that I am wealthy."

He smiled.

"That is the freedom which any individual has. In order to convince yourself of that you must prove yourself in regards to your environment."

Once again the crow cawed twice. I muttered a frustrated curse under my breath.

"My companion is the spirit, Al. In the eyes of the spirit no creature is worth more than another. There is only awareness and your own unique point of view."

The crow took to the air gracefully. I watched it depart with a twinge of envy. Sam's eyes were on the bird as well.

"I believe I have said that one of the characteristics of the right side is that what is important to one person's Tonal immediately becomes important to everyone else's. It is due to the agreement that the right side entails. That results in a problem of group dynamics. Remember our discussion about the chicken coop. We forever covet what others have, and while fighting for position in the pecking order, most miss the inherent dangers which surround them. If you have something of value you must defend it. A sorcerer has no points to defend. The only thing of value I have is my awareness, and even that is borrowed."

I was simply trying to find a comfortable state of mind. If freedom was what was offered, why was I full of foreboding?

"How much is the loaf of bread worth?" Sam asked.

For a moment I thought he was speaking metaphorically.

I had no response, other than a sarcastic comment. Sam was unmoved by the sarcasm. I felt bad, and looked at him apologetically. His eyes lowered briefly to the table with our cups of tea. Between the cups was a loaf of bread.

I looked at it for a moment puzzled. We had not moved during our talk, and I had finished my tea awhile back. It must have been there throughout our conversation. I had never seen the bread.

"It is important to understand that the loaf of bread exists whether we place any value on it or not. What is of value to one Tonal becomes valuable to others of the same inclination. That is the agreement of the right side. I have told you how the 'World of Appearances' works."

He winked.

"This is a good example."

I was still staring at the loaf of bread. Sam patted my leg in an offhand manner.

"Don't worry, Al. You simply must not be hungry at the moment."

Sam's laughter signaled the end of our discussion.

Opinionism

"So I have a question for you, Al."

"Yes, Sam?"

Our afternoon dialogue began in this manner.

"How many legs does a dog have?"

"Four."

"If you call a dog's tail a leg, how many legs does a dog have?"

"Five."

"The correct answer is four. Calling a tail a leg does not make it so."

He gave me a vapid smile which elicited a laugh.

"Abraham Lincoln used to recite that while he was president. It was valid then. It is utterly profound now. I am certain if he witnessed modern day society he would be horrified."

"Why is that, Sam?"

"People are slipping further and further into their own reflection. I told you that our gift is the ability to create the very world we inhabit. I also told you that our emotions do not change the weather—quite the contrary. Our curse is believing that our dream of wealth takes precedence over the waking reality of what we truly have. Our curse is becoming more pronounced. We have discussed Tonal for Tonal's sake. In the right sides bid for dominion we are attempting to assure ourselves that if we call a tail a leg, then it is so."

Once again I had to smile at Sam's animated storytelling.

"Let us take the war on terror for instance. Our leaders profess that we will win the war. This is a highly popular opinion. Consider the reality of the situation. Do you believe it is possible to lock terror up?"

"Well he would be a terrible cellmate, Sam."

This time it was my comment that resulted in laughter.

"Yes, I suppose he would. My point is that one cannot lock up a thought or an idea. Unfortunately it is also an example of the freedom offered to us all. We have discussed freedom through limitation, but what I want you to realize is that the freedom of thought is generally empty. An individual can think whatever he wants, at any point in time. They say, 'I think therefore I am,' like the statement is so profound. The opposite is true. It is why we call it 'lost in thought.' The 'World of Appearances' is there for all to experience, and it is a world more tangible than the mind. That being said, it is one thing to call yourself a king. It is quite another thing to convince others of your professed reality."

Sam's smile was gone.

"Years ago our leaders were wise to the error of this persuasion. In modern democracy they revel in the misconception. Society nowadays lives under the principle that opinions are fact. The reason for that is simple. Opinions are social lubricant. They do not create reality, though they contribute to the dream. Tell us what we want to hear! If you say a tail is a leg then so it is!"

His disgust was apparent. I once again had a vision of a crown.

"I told you that what is important to one Tonal is coveted by the rest. The same concept holds true in regards to opinions. If your opinion is a reality, then mine must be as well! It matters not if your opinion is opposed to my own. If your imaginary gun is lethal, then despite the fact that I might get shot, my shot is deadly as well! The nice thing about it is that both parties live on. Society is composed of such agreements. It is not entirely the fault of humanity. There are various forces in existence that profit a great deal from our agreements, whether they are constructive or not."

I was thinking about what he had said about the Tonal and it being both a gift and a curse. For some reason what he had said about language also seemed relevant.

"Does it really matter what we call it?"

"You can call it what you want. When we went outside and you froze Christmas day I was attempting to illustrate a point. Our lives are dependent on our physical environment. The problem is that when we descend into a dream of how we want things to be, we become separated from the physical reality, although sometimes we become more aware of our own. The warmth of your company is real. The frigid temperature outside is as well. Any psychiatrist who has dealt with psychosis knows that if one is out of touch with physical reality, it can become a threat to ones very survival."

I was thinking about my schizophrenic friend, as well as my recent breaks with the reality. I could no longer look at Sam and see the devil. Sam took in my expression and nodded grimly.

"No, it does not matter what we call it. The tail remains a tail. I do try to stay in touch with the world, despite my seclusion. Present day society is bordering on a state that I can only call psychotic. In the end, entire groups of people can be as delusional as an individual. The only thing that sustains it is society itself, which is feeding on the individuals who compose it. Individuals are part of the environment. When our only true wealth is the world we inhabit, and we soil our environment in the name of wealth, there is no viable future to be seen."

At that point I did not fully understand the gravity of what he was saying. Upon my arrival back home I would spend a great deal of time observing those around me. His warning would linger throughout my life.

"We can identify many things in life which are a problem. I will not preach, nor will I give you a list of ills to cure. Many people seek to solve such issues, though they rarely recognize their own. Curing the ills of the world is a valid goal, but when you are the cause, pointing the finger does not assist whatsoever. The ills of the world will always be present. Those issues have purpose as well. The only hope the human race has is to come to terms with the real problem. It requires us taking our place as part of the world, instead of separating ourselves from it." He looked around with a serene gaze. "This is reality. This is the universe, and my existence is self-sufficient. I take no more than I require, and this is what I have fashioned. We create ourselves through our own acts." He looked down at his hands.

His eyes had a faraway look.

"Ultimately we are our own issues. That is why championing a cause is slightly misguided. Change starts at home." I looked around at the cabin. Sam responded by nodding sagely. "I told you to observe both others and your environment closely. In order to solve our own issues one must take their place as part of the world. Taking ones place requires responsibility. As I have said on a number of occasions, the goal of the universe is to be self-aware. In order for that to occur, one must accept oneself, rather than pointing the finger at others. If we could solve our own issues other problems would naturally follow suit. It is something any sorcerer worth his salt aspires too."

During our talks I had been subjected to his rather negative view of society. I felt a little guilty. I was seeing the other side of that. It was not judgment I was seeing in Sam, it was his own sorrow. My insight led to a conclusion of sorts. His stand out here, far from town, was not one of spite. It was an unfortunate necessity for him.

We were silent for a time. A memory rose from my hometown. At the time it had confused me. Our city was an industrial center which had a few pulp mills. The issue of the cities air quality was a concern of the local residents. People were having respiratory problems. I clearly remembered a protest group which had formed.

Two weeks later I was listening to the news. My hometown received a medal for its efforts in air quality.

Upon hearing my story Sam clapped his hands, his smile dispelling the mood.

"I could not have given you a better example myself. What I am trying to say is that the medal your hometown received did not change the air quality. That medal will never solve people's health issues either."

"That is exactly what you are talking about, isn't it?"

"Precisely. Modern times have given us, for lack of a better term, the growth of opinionism. It is the result of an aberrant Tonal."

He smiled.

"You could call it the time of five legged dogs if you wish, but opinionism sounds much more formal. The left side comes first, the goal is the right side. That medal does not help those with respiratory problems."

He leaned close.

"I have already told you that the universe does not give a shit about our opinions. Nor, for that matter, do the dogs. Our vote will never make a tail a leg, despite the fact that every vote counts. We could agree to call it such, but that would be to our own detriment, it not affect the dog whatsoever. Our vote will not change the climate, nor will a medal, though our behavior could. Your opinion is of utmost importance to only one person. That person is yourself. Realizing that fact is one of the broadest steps a sorcerer can take."

I could not help the irritation I felt when he told me my opinion was inconsequential. In a detached manner I observed my emotional state. I was the most important person in the world, of course. Of that I was quite certain. What a lovely crown.

Despite my inner sarcasm, I still felt the need to defend my opinions. When someone gave me their opinion I generally tried to listen to the best of my ability. The internet is a fertile breeding ground for any opinion you can imagine. I had to wonder about an opinions offspring.

"I think an individual's opinions say a great deal about them, Sam. Since I have been here you have shared more than a few of your own. Are yours any more valid than anyone else's?"

"I operate in a very specific manner. My opinions are based on the environment which sustains them. I told you awhile back that I had summoned you. If I could dictate every nuance of that call I would have chosen someone far more attractive." He wrinkled his nose in mock disgust. I had to laugh. "If I had seen something different in you my behavior would have changed accordingly. As for your question the answer is no. My opinions are farts in the wind as well."

He offered me his finger. I offered a smile instead. I knew the crazy old bastard would fart. I also thought I had him on the ropes for once.

"I don't think you mean that, Sam. I happen to think your opinions have a great deal of value. What if my time with you affects my own opinions?"

Sam looked puzzled.

"One must always take the Nagual into consideration." He leaned forward. "If you accept my opinion as your own then it is your opinion. Your favorite color is a personal opinion as well. Does it matter if others share that opinion? Do you need ownership of a color? Can you lock terror up? It is entirely possible your time with me will change your perspective. I told you that you are an investment, and that through you I am repaying a debt. If your opinions change then they remain your opinions. They have nothing to do with me at all."

I was not ready to give up. "You must admit that opinions can have an effect though."

Sam laughed quietly. "Your lack of understanding is the point I am attempting to make, believe it or not. You asked me if you should consider yourself a work of art. Sure, if that is how you choose to view yourself. The question is if others will see it as art. The universe is impersonal by nature, but it places value on creativity. If others do not see the value of your artistic expression? The universe, which is the canvas on which you paint, will."

The smile on Sam's face was art in itself.

"It was part of the reason for my performance last night. Consider this for a moment. Perhaps in some layer of eternity other people suffer the weight of your belief. Do those who do not hold your personal belief burn in hell for all eternity? Ultimately that is your decision. Perhaps they do, due to your own artistic expression. If so, ultimately their fate, in your 'World' is on your shoulders. I have also attempted to bring to light some consistencies of human nature. Your opinions will have a marked influence on your own life. They do not affect other people, other than the fact that they might adopt your opinion as their own."

I could only think that Sam's opinions carried a great deal of weight. At that moment my deficiency was in self-awareness. That would only come in time, after careful observation of those in my 'World.' I simply could not process his statement that what he was saying was dependent on my presence.

"It is the monkey in us, I am afraid." Sam continued. "If you base your actions on the rest of the folly, then it is your own nature that is participating in the folly. Someone tosses an empty coffee cup on the ground and thinks to themselves, 'It's just one coffee cup, and tons of people do it.' It's your coffee cup. In the end that is all that matters."

I felt very guilty at that moment. Sam caught and held my attention.

"There are two sides to every coin. There is a flipside to your unbelievers burning in hell for the rest of eternity. You enjoy your music. Many musicians strut around with their chests out crowing like roosters, letting everyone know how tough they are. Each and every individual holds value to the universe at large. The universe is also impersonal by nature. The sad thing is that if you inform anyone that it is, in fact, their own person which has relevance, the inevitable response is, 'Why would what I think mean anything?'"

Sam was looking at me calmly.

"That is yet another example of the tragedy of the human condition. When people strut around they do it in order to establish themselves in the pecking order. If an individual were acting in accordance to the true spirit of man you would see different behavior. It is also why the folly of man is a folly."

All I could think of was the various hip hop songs I had listened to over the years. They did crow, of that there was no doubt.

"As I have said, in order to fix the problems in the world you must go to the source." He raised his eyebrows. "I will restrain from pointing the finger, but one problem is sitting across from me now. A sorcerer, after a careful and thorough observation of society, inevitably comes to the conclusion that the only answer is to cure oneself. One way in which this can be accomplished is by severing ones tie to the rest of the curse. It is possible to forge a completely different reality through one's own surroundings. It requires taking ones part in the true dream, which includes both ones environment as well as other creatures."

The idea that other people would burn for not holding the same beliefs I did was a very strange concept. I did not see myself torturing anyone. Later I would realize that that was why many atheists were better off. At that moment I could not hold the same opinion of society that Sam did. I simply did not see myself ever escaping.

"I have introduced you to the concept of silent knowledge. Long ago we knew directly. Other animals still exist in that medium. There are no questions, and other animals exist as part the environment, they are not separate from it. That is where direct knowledge originates." I was reminded of warm sunshine. "The human race diverged into reason. We began asking why, and gave up the knowledge that was offered in a vain attempt to claim it for ourselves. In essence the Tonal of man is that of a thief."

I had experienced silent knowledge for myself. I was also aware that there was a part of me did not comprehend functioning without asking 'how' or 'why.'

The dark sea within me knew it was rather simple.

"I do not suffer from these issues. If you want to know the answer it is there in the sorcerer's faith. Society is addicted to its own reflection. The folly of man will end one way or another. I live with the flame of my conviction. I do not require agreement. Other people can do as they please."

This was a little much for me. My wandering attention must have been apparent. Sam caught my eyes as he continued.

"A sorcerer changes his point of view out of necessity, Al. What one observes in the world is affected by the observer. A sorcerer can always say—And Yet—and change that point of view. From this stand a sorcerer observes the world. Perhaps it is best if we discuss 'And Yet's' evil brother. It is yet another thing which is featured prominently in the folly of man."

I was once again curious. "What is that, Sam?"

"I called the Tonal both a gift and a curse. Nothing in existence is truly good or bad. The same thing applies to the Nagual. 'And Yet—' is beneficial for the most part. It is still dependent upon both the witness and the environment observed. Through the conviction of that simple statement a sorcerer changes their perspective. The dark side of this statement can also be applied. The very same mentality becomes 'Yes, But—.' The right side of existence can act as both guardian and protector. It can also function as a jailor. I told you that the lovely thing about the mind is that one can think whatever one wants. It lacks the foundation of one's physical surroundings."

His eyes were calm and clear. I was very aware at that moment that Sam had called the foundation of any species a dream. Once again I felt out of my depth.

"I will give you an example. Answer my questions as best you can."

I nodded and motioned for him to continue.

"What will you do when you go home, Al?"

I thought about it for a moment.

"Well I will have to find an apartment. There is my job, of course."

"Yes, but do you like your job?"

After all the talk about money being a dream I was not sure how to feel about work at all.

"Not really Sam. I need to earn a living somehow." I almost sounded certain. I could always find a comfortable park bench, of course.

"Yes, but is it necessary to do something you do not enjoy?"

My guitar was still sitting off to one side.

"I have my music, Sam." I was thinking about what he had said about investments. "I believe I will focus more of my attention on that."

"Yes, but do you think you can earn a living playing?"

Two things where blossoming at that moment. One was that the point he was making was growing all too clear. The other was that I was growing irritated.

"I really don't know, Sam."

"Yes, but you should know. Otherwise you will simply be working a job you don't like for the next ten years."

It was more than a little depressing.

"Enough, Sam. I get the point."

"For a sorcerer 'Yes, but' does not exist." He spread his arms in a wide gesture. "You can argue with the surroundings to your heart's content. It is an argument you will most assuredly lose."

I was not about to get into an argument with the cabin. I did not think it was one I could win. My vehicle was in the driveway, but that could wait.

Sam caught my eyes once again.

"You can play the 'Yes, But' game with me if you wish."

I keyed on that immediately thinking it would help in some way.

"You start, Sam. I was looking at him with what I could only hope were dark eyes.

"My parents died in a car crash when I was five years old, it makes me very sad when I think about it."

To be honest at that moment I had no idea whether he was joking or being serious. It mattered little. I had no argument to the contrary.

I had to make an effort regardless. In the end what I did was avoid the point entirely. The entire time that I had spent with Sam I had been trying to get to know him. When I spent my first day with him I bared my soul.

I am ashamed to say I avoided asking whether his statement was the truth or not. On some level I knew the truth. I avoided it completely.

"Sam, I am not a bloody coffee table, and whether you like it or not I do have a mind."

"A sorcerers mind is the coffee table, that is the very point that I am attempting to bring to light. When you bring a new piece of furniture into the house how do you decided where to put it?"

"I guess I put it where it looks good." I grumbled.

Sam clapped his hands emphatically.

"That is proper use of the mind! That is an opinion that carries weight. The opinion of the surroundings is of great relevance."

He raised his feet and placed them on the table between us with a sigh.

"Opinionism is a growing trend." He pantomimed an imaginary emergency telegraph. "Breaking news flash! My latest opinion is that 'Al' is hopeless!"

Sam looked at me with a broad grin.

"Long ago people used to research a news story. I suppose it simply took too much in the way of effort. Both your own opinions, and by association those of others, are the most important thing in the world." Sam winked. "It allows the dark side of the Nagual to hold sway. It allows our adversaries to 'Yes, but—' to their hearts content."

For some reason I was feeling dreadfully uncomfortable. I keyed on his reference to adversaries. Sam had alluded to this quite often throughout my stay with him. He hand never explored the issue.

"What adversaries, Sam?"

Sam burst out laughing. "Well your fellow man, for one."

I still could not accept that. Sam obviously thought there was more involved.

"In our dream we are dominant. I brought up the five legged dog story for that very reason. Our best defense is our physical environment. It is a place where we do rule rather effectively. Our rule, as it stands now, will not last forever. That is the sorcerer's faith. If the human race cannot support its own weight it will fail. We will grow and develop or wallow in ignorance. My conviction is that I will not suffer the same fate. I live in a sustainable state, utilizing what I need to survive, and giving back when I can. I give back through you. As far as I am concerned being a sorcerer is a survival mechanism. The fact of the matter is that the human race is simply a sliver of eternity. We are part of the food chain as well, no different than any other creature. We have our own predators."

"So where are these predators, Sam?" I was more than a little skeptical.

He took his feet off the coffee table and leaned across to tap my forehead with a finger.

"The ones that are easiest to deal with are right there, Al. The more dangerous ones exist physically. My performance last night was in part a collaboration with some of them. Sit and think for a bit if you want."

He was done with our afternoon talk. I was simply left to mull it over in disbelief.

7

Game

The Game of Life

Our discussion over dinner that night was one that I would never forget. I am not saying that any of our discussions were unmemorable. I put the vast majority of our talks in a category I called theory.

Sam's theory that evening put me on a plate.

Sam had speared a piece of sausage with his fork and was looking at it with a smile on his face. He then looked over at me, his expression unchanged. I am willing to admit that I felt uncomfortable. I would soon find out why.

I attempted to distract Sam with a complement.

"I think our dinner this evening is one of your best yet."

Sam seemed a little surprised at my comment, and then nodded slowly.

"Yes, this is some damned fine pig." He then popped the sausage into his mouth and closed his eyes, chewing slowly.

When he was finished he opened his eyes and regarded me calmly, placing his fork to one side of his plate.

"Why do we eat, Al?" He asked.

I was puzzled by his behavior. I decided to be a smartass.

"Because it's enjoyable?"

Sam smiled once again. "Yes, business can be pleasure on occasion. You have identified the pleasure. What is the business end of the meal before us?"

"We have to eat in order to survive, Sam."

"Yes, we do. In what manner does the meal before us contribute to our survival?"

Sam was obviously not going to let it go, so I thought for a moment before responding.

"I suppose our food goes towards maintaining our bodies and..." I paused as I considered. "It also provides us with fuel."

Sam beamed with a grin.

"I want you to be specific now. You are right about the food we eat maintaining our bodies, but think about what you said about fuel. In the end what does the fuel provide?"

"Energy?"

Sam picked up his fork and ate a few more bites. He then looked me over for a bit. Apparently everything was too his satisfaction.

"Yes, Al, food provides us with energy. Every form of life on the planet carries a vast reserve of energy. While the body lives, that energy is utilized to bestow awareness. Awareness is the true currency of existence." Sam pointed to the fireplace in the living-room where a few of the logs I had split were burning, lending pleasant warmth to the cabin. "Even after death, life carries with it an enormous energy reserve, though that energy no longer provides awareness. Awareness is the motive of life, and the physicality of a being is what engenders that awareness."

Our conversation up till that point had been relatively harmless.

"Alright, Sam." I was looking at my plate thinking about the energy deficit I had suffered before my sweat. My thoughts in that case were on the mark. I felt uncomfortable. Sam's next comment only served to make me more so.

"One day you will be eaten."

Sam's comment was so unexpected that my mouth, which had so recently been occupied with the meal I had complemented, opened and closed without a sound.

I found my tongue. "What do you mean I will be eaten?"

"I mean just what I said. One day you will be no different than our pleasant dinner this evening. One day you will be devoured, and you will provide sustenance for some other form of life."

I looked at my plate and could only wonder if he had lost his grip on reality.

"I really do not think that is going to happen, Sam." I found his comment rather offensive.

"Oh, as people we are aware of a great many things that we deliberately choose to ignore. We are all aware of our inevitable demise of course. I told you once that everybody knows. It is the not knowing that makes life bearable. Denial does not make my statement any less valid."

"Alright, Sam. What is going to eat me?"

"People have a natural tendency to personify only that which pleases them. One day you will be eaten by worms, bugs, or bacteria. One day you will be consumed, that is what I am saying."

I felt a sense of revulsion. My skin became itchy. I felt slightly ill, and could no longer look at my plate. I did not particularly want to look at Sam either.

"As you said Sam, we all die at some point." My answer was defensive.

"I have suggested that you accept death as an advisor. Both death and your role as game are similar concepts. They are topics one generally avoids."

Sam looked at me for a moment and burst out laughing. I was still feeling set upon, but that did not deter Sam in the slightest. I had to wait for his obvious mirth to subside.

"I am sorry, Al. It is an absolute necessity for a sorcerer to face the reality of existence. You are going to be served at the moment. I am afraid you will have to wait."

It took me a few moments to regain my grip on my emotional state. I was once again reminded of our first true discussion, when I had opened up to Sam and been laughed at.

"Is your comment supposed to help me in some way?" I had to ask.

"We are selfish by nature. Yes, the fact that you will be eaten some day is supposed to help. It will allow you to truly enjoy the meals you consume from now on. It is the ultimate fate of all physical life to provide sustenance, in turn, for other forms of life. It is not your death that concerns me, although that is inevitable as well." He chuckled once again. "Most people avoid issues that are beyond their control. As a sorcerer those issues are the ones I consider most crucial. One day I will die. One day I will provide sustenance for other forms of life. Those are unavoidable facts. The question is really how one approaches those issues."

I had never been overly religious. I had to wonder if my lack of belief would hold true if faced with my own demise.

"We go to the supermarket and buy a steak completely disconnected from the process that put it there. Our true role in existence is carefully avoided by all. We revel in the reflection of a crown instead." Sam continued. "The idea of being a meal ourselves is revolting."

And why would being a meal be anything but revolting? I could not bring myself to finish my own.

"Well, maybe I will be cremated." I had never thought of it before but at that moment it seemed like an appealing proposition.

"And once again you are avoiding the issue. There is really no escape. It is simply a condition of existence. If you are cremated you will be consumed by fire. You will be devoured one way or the other, I assure you."

"Why are you telling me this, Sam?" For some reason I felt betrayed.

"I am telling you this in hopes you will approach both life and the meals you eat in a different manner. I am telling you so that you do not squander your existence. You should appreciate the food on your plate. I am afraid this is not going to get any easier for you. I told you that awareness is a higher form of energy. That awareness can provide sustenance as well. You do not have to worry about being a snack physically until you die. Your awareness, on the other hand, is fair game for the duration of your life."

I was desperately struggling with what he was telling me.

"How can awareness possibly be fuel?" I asked.

Sam did not answer me directly.

"In the end it is all energy. The wood that you split for the fire is being consumed as we speak. The walls of my cabin are wrought from the awareness of the trees which compose them. I told you that the contention of sorcerers is that dark matter is awareness. The entire universe is aware. You find the concept of being a meal horrifying. I know. I went through something similar myself at one point. What you need to understand is that all life is interconnected. How is your fate any different than the meal you have just eaten? Self-importance is the bane of sorcerers. Awareness is the crucial aspect of any meal as well. A good cook can bring a world of flavor to any dish. Understanding your true role in life simply adds spice to the experience."

He finished his last mouthful before continuing.

"There have been many studies done on childhood development that show attention, and the type of attention that a child receives, contributes to their development. The strange thing is that a child is generally not concerned about the type of attention he or she receives. Would you deny a child your attention in order to keep it for yourself?"

I felt like a fish out of water. My thoughts were floundering.

He pointed to a few stray potatoes on my plate.

"Yes we eat potatoes. We also plant them and spread their seeds. The potato is a very successful crop, made more-so by the fact that they appeal to us. You can look at it in the sense that we provide a service for the potato. In return we have French fries and potato chips."

I tried to make sense of what Sam was saying.

"Awareness," Sam continued, "is a specific form of energy. If you want you can consider it to be a precious metal. Gold is forged in the heart of a star, and as such it is very rare. Awareness forged through living. The precious nature of awareness, and in a focused sense attention, is coveted by many creatures. We have already discussed advertising. You are prey in many ways. Money is a crude expression. The love between a mother and child is worth far more."

I was beginning to get a grip on the argument, if not his reason for focusing on it. I looked down at my plate once again, considering our discussion few days prior about commercials. The difficulty I had was that Sam seemed to be insinuating something else entirely.

"Am I in any danger, Sam? Are you saying that my attention is being manipulated in some way?" His comment about advertising was undeniable, but I sensed a larger issue. "Obviously a child needs the attention of its parents. Why do you consider it such an issue?"

"In sorcery we simply consider attention focused awareness. It is not awareness that is the issue, it is the quality of attention that is crucial. The money in your pocket is simply an example of one such issue. One's awareness is all one has to offer in the end. If you want to subject yourself to commercials you are free to do so. In a spiritual sense there are many entities in the world. We are beset by a variety of forces that covet our attention. Many of the social and psychological problems people experience are a result of the influence of those foreign entities."

"What, are you talking about spirits?" I thought about the celestial music the other night and the subsequent haunting.

Sam raised his eyebrows at my tone.

"The evolutionary process is not a ladder, Al. There is no top of the food chain. Both physical reality and the circle of life resemble a pile of yarn more than anything else. Humanity is lost to the reflection of a crown. That crown leaves us blind to the reality of our situation. We graze in the aisles of supermarkets. It is unfortunate that we are the top of the food chain physically, because it makes us blind to other threats. To be honest most animals are not so stupid."

For some reason the image of a cat came to mind.

"I guess I will have to take your word for it." I was disconcerted. Sam smiled.

"Oh I doubt that, Al. The same conditions that apply to all forms of life apply to you as well. You are game, and you have been introduced to the Nagual. You have recognized in return. I am quite certain you will have the opportunity to verify what I am telling you."

If there were threats I wanted to know about them. My eyes were on my plate once again. I could not bring myself to finish my meal.

Silence fell between us for a time as I once again wondered what I had gotten myself into.

"As I said earlier, any living being carries a great deal of energy. That energy reserve is a condition of the Tonal. The fossil fuels that run our vehicles are the product of decomposed plant matter. Energy can be neither created nor destroyed. It is an unfortunate fact that if you are alive, you are also game. Nature wastes nothing. Our role is simply a condition of existence. In the end every Tonal will provide sustenance for something in return. That holds true even if it is simply gas for your vehicle. You can consider it the cheques and balances of living."

I still did not want to wind up on anyone's plate.

"I have told you that you are the sum total of everything you experience throughout life. With that in mind, do you want to move forward blind and unknowing, or do you want to take that very awareness in hand and mold it into something you find worthwhile?"

"I am sure you know the answer to that Sam. How am I supposed to accept my role as game?"

"The best form of worship, regardless of ones beliefs, is the simple act of paying attention. I know the answer that anyone would offer the question. The unfortunate thing is that despite the obvious answer, facing the truth of one's situation is no easy task. For an earthquake you have insurance, and for your inevitable demise you have a priest willing to accept your plea for forgiveness. I told you that the only thing that is truly ours is the ability to shape our awareness as we see fit. There is nothing wrong with being thankful for the meal before you. Our thoughts and emotions are prey to many things. Some people will look to you for pity and others will look to you for love. A religious person will warn you about your immortal soul. It is not easy to take ones fate in hand."

"But you have, haven't you Sam?"

"Well I do get a few guests from time to time, much to my dismay." Sam offered a smile. "A few days ago you were worried that I was going to ask you for money." Sam continued. "I will not ask you for that, but your time with me does come with a price. There is an expense to everything, even if it is simply the energy expended. You have eaten at my table for the duration of your stay with me."

Oddly enough I actually felt relieved about the impending request, though I knew not what it would entail.

"You could call my neighbors social misfits. They have chosen to life out here for reasons different than my own, though we have wound up in the same location. My neighbors consist of farmers and butchers and carpenters, among other things. I want you to know that the majority of the food you have eaten during your stay here has been provided by the surrounding landscape."

Sam had told me at one point that his cabin had been built from wood from the surroundings. I had wondered where his food came from.

"I will replace the food I have eaten at some point if that's what you want, Sam."

Sam shook his head slowly.

"That is not acceptable. I do not particularly like store-bought meat. I do, however, expect you to replace what you have consumed during your time here."

I did not understand what he was asking me. Sam read me easily enough.

"Tomorrow we will go hunting. If your offer is true, the environment will provide for us. Have you ever been hunting before?"

I shook my head in dismay. I had gone out camping and done target practice, but I had never actually hunted. I was also puzzled by something Sam had said.

"What do you mean, 'If my offer is true?'?"

"I told you that energy can be neither created nor destroyed. Tomorrow we will go hunting for a buck. Did you think you could take a life and offer nothing in return?"

"I had not planned on going hunting."

"Well what were you planning on doing tomorrow?"

I looked up to see him that broad grin on his face once again. He then broke out laughing.

"Lighten up, Al. I have high hopes that you will not be dinner for a good long time. You will have the time to forge your awareness into something worthwhile. There is no life-form that wants to be prey. The universe is predatory by nature, and adversity promotes growth. It is an unfortunate condition of life."

Sam had been toying with me. I had to smile despite myself. I thought I had dodged a bullet.

"So we are not going hunting?"

Sam's expression became serious once again.

"No Al, I am afraid that is the price of your time with me."

I thought about it for a moment. I could find no acceptable way to refuse.

"So what is it that I have to offer?"

"If we find a suitable buck we will be taking its life. You must offer something of equal value in return. A life for a life, in a sense."

I looked at Sam with a shocked expression.

"You cannot be serious, Sam."

"Oh I am very serious. You must replace the life you take with a life of your own. You must offer something of yourself."

"Well what am I supposed to offer?"

"You can offer the buck anything you wish. The only question is whether your offer will be accepted or not. We will find out tomorrow."

Sam excused himself from the table and I went to work cleaning up. I had absolutely no idea how to proceed.

I had avoided shopping for gifts this season. Finding something for an animal you were hunting would prove to be no easy task.

The Offering

As the night came to a close I had made no progress. I could think of nothing that suited Sam's strange request. I had grown close enough to my host during our time together to know that he was completely serious.

I could think of nothing I wished to sacrifice.

As I lay in bed that night I went through all sorts of weird scenarios. I was aware that Sam was not talking about a literal death, so I went through everything that I could think of that I could offer. In the end I had discarded every possibility that came to mind. Nothing seemed appropriate in the context Sam had provided.

Eventually I drifted off to sleep.

That night I dreamt of Sara. The dream was nothing extraordinary in itself. Our relationship was like it had been at the start. It was the warmth of her company that was memorable. That warmth was shockingly absent when I woke.

Waking to loss can be devastating.

I lay in bed with tears in my eyes. In my sorrow I reviewed my situation. I thought about the dream of the gate a few nights past. Sam had said that there are two people in any one relationship. That nervous, jittery part of me was present once again. There was the other part as well, which was calm and dark. The division within me resolved itself with a rather profound revelation.

Sam had requested a life. I would offer one. Inherent in my realization was the simple fact that life and death were indivisible. One did not, and could not, exist without the other. I had spent the evening before dwelling on a life I could offer, and had missed the other part of the equation completely. My flight from town was the result of the end of my relationship, and the need to come to terms with it. There was, indeed, something I could offer. It was the very relationship that I was clinging too.

And that was my offer.

I reviewed my decision dispassionately. I was no longer involved with Sara. I had come out here in order to deal with my grief, and although it had not turned out as I had planned, I now had the means to accomplish my goal.

I could only wonder if the day would yield results. I needed to lay a ghost to rest and repay Sam in some way. I could only wonder about the death it required.

Sam was up early as usual. I emerged from my room and greeted him with what I could only assume was a tough smile. Sam observed me carefully for a moment and set a plate for me on the table. I looked down at the meal before me and saw my own demise.

Sam had said that his concern was living over life, though he had also said that death was both a companion and an advisor. We had discussed approaching life as if it were a form of art. I could only think that in this instance I had heard the message. I wondered how I would face my end when my own time came.

Would I be offered something as well? The thought occupied my mind while I ate. When I was finished I was ready with a question.

"I have never been out hunting before, Sam. Do you think we will have any luck?"

"I have little in the way of doubt, Al. You have been introduced to the Nagual. The first day we spent together I offered to write you a new ticket. You accepted my invitation. An offer of your own is necessary. Have you come to a decision on what that is?"

He raised his eyebrows in query.

"Yes, Sam, I have."

He did not require an explanation.

The rest of the morning was spent in preparation. First of all Sam proceeded to give me a refresher course on how to fire a gun. It is shocking that something that can inflict such damage could be so simple to use. I fired the rifle until I got the feel of both the gun and sight. I gradually became more comfortable with the kick, and my aim became accurate enough to earn Sam's approval.

Sam had spoken on occasion of the shackles of identity. Our hunt required chains as well, though I would not be wearing them in this case. Sam produced two sets of tire chains for the back wheels of my truck. I would be driving. Sam was simply giving directions.

After fixing the chains to the tires of, Sam produced a ramp so that the snowmobile could be moved into the box of the truck. Apparently we required both. With the snowmobile secured in the back it was time to go. I realized it was the very first time I had driven my truck since the accident that led to our meeting in the first place.

I pondered that fact as I drove. What sort of luck was the animal that had crossed my path—good or bad? Perhaps there was only one kind.

We used the same trail that we had taken to his sweat lodge. This time we ventured further up the mountain. Apparently Sam had had a location in mind when we set out. He signaled for us to stop when we arrived at our destination. The rest of the journey consisted of a long trek through the snow. We said little as we travelled. After what seemed like an hour or so, Sam settled on a spot.

The location Sam had selected was at one end of a valley. We were situated up high with a great view of the opening below. I felt odd with the rifle in my hand as we settled in.

After that it was simply a waiting game.

"It is important to understand that one's death is actually an integral part of one's life. We are slivers of eternity. The death of an individual is a significant part of the life lived." Sam broached the topic of sorcery to pass the time. "The right and left sides of existence court specific qualities. The left side of existence is aggressive, while the right side is passive. A predator hunts its prey. The spirit of an herbivore is a different spirit. What we have not discussed up till this point is that ones left side can occupy a position to the right, and the right side can inhabit a space to the left."

I attempted to wrap my head around this concept.

"Do you mean like a yin-yang?"

Sam snorted derisively.

"The yin-yang has appealing symmetry, and though it has value in theory, for the most part it is far from the reality of nature. You are correct however. Like that symbol, energy from one side can inhabit a space on the other. It is the very symmetry of the yin-yang that I find distasteful. Organization does not yield life, quite the opposite, while life does arise through a state of anarchy." Sam looked at me and smiled. "Then we organize to our hearts content."

The serene white expanse of the valley below us made Sam's next comment difficult to understand. It would become clearer as time passed.

"The universe is predatory by nature. The right side is simply specific, distilled qualities of that which is found to the left. One can consider life itself an embodiment of the right side. Your own being is simply a purified expression of qualities found in the environment. Inherent in the understanding that we are part of our natural environment, concessions must be made in regards to nature itself. That is why your offering is required."

Despite the situation I was in a relaxed state, soothed by the sound of Sam's voice. I waited for him to continue.

"The Nagual is present through existence in a fixed amount. There is nothing which can be added or removed. The best way to think of it is as a puzzle, though it is a puzzle that can be put together in endless variety. That is where to aggressive nature of the left side originates. You could think of it as complete confidence. In regards to the Nagual nothing can be taken, though everything is offered."

"What about the Tonal, Sam?"

"Think about it in this sense. The left side must ultimately come first. As I have said on a number of occasions, the goal itself is always the right side. Thus we have life. If we had in mind what was best for those who follow us, rather than what is best for us at the moment, we would take into consideration that which we leave for those to follow. A life is the culmination of everything that proceeded ones birth, and includes everything that comes afterwards. As I have said on many occasions, we are slivers of eternity."

Sam cleared his throat before continuing.

"The right side is the picture that is painted—it is the manifestation of art. The Nagual is the creative impulse. The Tonal complements and contradicts the left side simultaneously. Out of the infinite possibilities that the universe embodies, one is required to tell their own story. That story is your art, if you decide to consider it such. It is your choice. The passive nature of the right side is due to the fact that it is dependent on a suitable environment. That being said, the story one tells can be any story conceivable."

Perhaps for the first time since my arrival on Sam's doorstep I felt I had a rudimentary grasp on the basic precepts of sorcery. When Sam had first suggested approaching life as a form of art it had caused mixed emotions. I was more comfortable with the concept now, though how I could apply it in regards to my life was another thing altogether.

I felt a longing for a guitar, but that would have to wait. At that moment my instrument was a rifle instead.

"The right side is game, though at the moment you are a hunter. The hunter embodies the left side of existence—it is aggressive. The Nagual hunts the pictures we paint—the stories we tell. Thus we have art. In a similar sense you are now hunting a deer. That being the case, what we are doing is waiting. You are the aggressor at the moment, though the position you occupy is on the right side."

"Is there anything that I should be doing?" I did not want to disappoint Sam.

"Embody the confidence of the left side. It is the same as courting a girl at your favorite bar. Women are attracted to men who are neither desperate nor needy. You have been a hunter before, and this hunt is no different."

Sam's comment brought Sara's image to mind. I considered my offering calmly. The loss I had felt upon waking was distant. I had left town for a reason. I was sick my ghosts.

Sam was right. There was lots of game in the world.

"Although the right side is game," Sam continued, "every species in existence embodies a different expression—they have a unique voice, if you will. We have already discussed spiders, which are one of my favorites. Embody the confidence of the spider as you wait. As people we constantly flitter from one distraction to the next. I told you that a sorcerer cultivates the flame of conviction. The conviction of a spider is complete. They are a lovely expression of the Tonal."

We passed the time in idle conversation. Sam suggested that I be both relaxed and attentive. Eventually Sam fell silent, and like the spider, we simply waited. The location Sam had selected was perfect. I could only hope that a buck would find it as inviting. The valley was flanked by trees on either side, and provided a broad view. The time passed uneventfully, and I did my best to wait attentively.

When I felt Sam's hand grip my shoulder, I caught my breath. A buck had emerged from the tree line, slowly making its way into the valley below.

"Wait until it moves further into the valley and keep your offering in mind. Make certain of your shot."

Sam's advice was unnecessary. The moment I caught sight of the buck everything moved into a state of extraordinary clarity. My heart-rate accelerated although I remained calm. I thought about my relationship with Sara and knew I had to let go. There were no longer two people involved, and I needed my freedom as well.

The deer slowly made its way into the clearing. It lowered its head to worry some stubborn bit of grass from the snow and then looked up, turning its head in our direction.

I exhaled with a steady breath like Sam had taught me, and squeezed the trigger.

The report rang loudly in the quiet of the valley. The buck jumped once and then its forelegs folded. For some reason I identified with it. Its struggle reflected my own. I was momentarily horrified at what I had done, and I felt a sharp sense of regret, though Sam did not allow me to indulge in the emotion.

"Hurry now, we should not let it suffer."

The buck continued to struggle as we made our way towards it. I observed my emotions in a detached manner. I felt both powerful and guilty at the same time.

I had killed all manner of bugs and other crawlies as a child. I suppose it was possible that I would provide a meal for something similar at some point. Those deaths did not prepare me for the struggle of the buck. I tried to be dispassionate as I watched it fight for life. Every time I sat down to a meal I was contributing to the demise of something in one way or another. The deer's attempts to rise and flee simply made it more personal. I wondered where one drew the line between one life and the next.

I decided we simply placed more value on some than on others.

When we arrived the deer was breathing heavily, blood foaming its mouth as it struggled for breath. The white of the surrounding snow highlighted the blood, as if to emphasize what I had done. I realized I had absolutely no idea how to proceed, and turned to Sam for advice.

Sam responded by handing me a large knife.

"You must finish what you started." That was Sam's only comment.

I did not take the knife immediately. I looked at it, the consequence of my shot clear. I looked up at Sam and with the intent of asking that he to do it, but his expression told me that it was simply not an option. I reached out and took the knife clumsily.

I looked once again at the deer, which looked back with wide, panicked eyes.

The consequences of my actions were clear, and I had little choice, so I grabbed a horn with my left hand and resolutely placed the blade against the beast's neck with the other. I pressed and pulled. The sinew and muscle parted easily beneath the sharp edge, and the result was that my hand was covered with a warm wash of blood. The deer twitched, kicked its back legs, and then quieted.

It was done. I looked down at my bloody hands as if they belonged to another.

Sam clapped my shoulder, obviously not sharing my sentiment. "It was a nice shot, Al." I realized that I had a name to go with those hands. "I was afraid we would be forced to track it for the remainder of the day."

I could think of no response.

"We must make our way back to the snowmobile. I am afraid that our day is far from over."

I followed Sam without speaking, leaving the buck where it lay. I thought about Sara. Something had changed within me. I realized that, with the death of the deer, a sense of innocence was gone as well. Sam had said that there were two people in any one relationship. I thought about my realization in regards to life and death. Every relationship came to an end at some point, and there is an end inherent in every beginning.

The only question regarding the relationship had been my emotional attachment, and though we had separated months ago, the death of the buck signified the true demise of my relationship.

I cleaned my hands as best I could with some snow.

The walk back seemed to take no time at all. Above anything else I felt liberated. It was as was as if I had tapped into something primal within myself. I had touched upon something very old that I had never with identified before.

When we reached my truck, Sam and I had to separate while he went back for the deer with the snowmobile. It would not be possible to take the truck itself. As I watched Sam depart I felt very detached. I do not remember thinking at all until he returned.

I have no idea how much time passed. The sound of the snowmobile announced Sam returning with my buck. Getting the buck from the back of the snowmobile into the box of my truck took some rope, a pulley, and a few choice words.

Then it was simply a trip back down the mountain.

A Game of You

By the time Sam and I had arrived back at his cabin the sun had taken its leave behind the mountains to the west. Our hunting trip had encompassed the whole day, though our effort had not been wasted.

I will admit that I was emotionally numb. When the coyote had called I fell into despair. This trip back was absent was absent of emotions in regards to Sara. For the first time I had something else to consider.

I was pleased with the success of our outing, and curious as well. Sam said that he had summoned me. When I had left town I was looking for something as well. Had I somehow summoned the buck? Why would an animal respond to my need? I could only wonder.

The buck was in the back of my truck. Sam had said that the physical body asked no questions. The buck was asking none either. Sam's body was beside me in the passenger seat keeping me company.

Sam's presence emphasized the absence of Sara emotionally. He was present, Sara was not. Sam had suggested keeping death as both an advisor and a companion. The pain that had been a constant companion over the course of the past few months was gone.

Perhaps I needed had a new companion. I thought about the buck struggling in the snow, the red blood staining the stark white snow.

Sam had said that I had to offer the buck something in return for its life. I had offered my relationship. Sam also said that my offer had to be true. I suppose the success of the hunt, and the resulting absence of my emotional ties to Sara, proved the fact that it had been.

Our work was far from over upon our arrival at the cabin. After I had parked the truck, Sam pulled the snowmobile into the garage. He unlocked a door to yet another part of the shop, a room to which I had not been privy. What the open door revealed was a small butcher shop.

Although it was clean, the scars on the countertops told of frequent use. I could only wonder how much of the food I had consumed during my stay had been processed in that very room.

Once again I felt a pride at my success.

Sam enlisted my aid in moving the buck into the room. There was a pulley conveniently located on a beam that ran across the ceiling, which was used to hoist the animal. Once that was accomplished Sam turned his attention to me.

"The hunt had to be yours. I am assuming that you have never butchered an animal before." I had never been hunting before. "At your leave, I will take it from here. I would like to skin the animal and take something for our repast this evening."

I was relieved, and nodded in agreement. Sam went to a drawer and removed an assortment on knives, which he placed on the worn countertop. I forced myself to watch as he made a cut around the skull of the animal, and then began peeling the hide downward. I observed Sam at work for a time and then asked a simple question.

"You said that nothing in life can truly be taken. When I am back at home and shopping in the supermarket, I do not offer anything other than money. I get the feeling that money is not the offering you are referring too."

"No, money is not what I am referring to, Al. Money only has relevance in regards to your fellow man."

I had assumed as much.

"If I am offering nothing but money, how does your theory hold true?"

Sam continued working the hide off the animal, exposing more and more of what lay beneath. Despite being a little squeamish, I watched in fascination.

"I told you earlier, one day your physical form will be consumed as well. We pay our debts on time."

I found I could offer no response. Silently I hoped that my death would serve some sort of purpose. If death was to be a companion perhaps it could be useful.

"One always offers something." Sam continued. "People in the supermarket are not hunting, they are grazing. There is no gain without loss. The ease of the convenience store comes at a cost. The Tonal of any creature has developed in regards to its unique and ever evolving spirit. There are herbivores, carnivores, and omnivores in the natural world. We belong to the latter category. That does not make other voices wrong. There are benefits to being a predator, just as there are benefits to being an herbivore."

I looked at my rapidly denuded kill and realized I would rather be the hunter.

"What possible benefits are there for an herbivore?"

Sam put the knife down momentarily and looked at me in surprise.

"We exist in accordance with our own nature. The nature of a predator is very different than that of an herbivore. The predator's existence is dependent on the presence of game, as well as its skill as a hunter. The benefit of being an herbivore is that one has an endless buffet underfoot at all times. That is an evolutionary advantage. In that sense a grazing animal is actually the top of the chain. The predator is forever dependent on the prey."

"What on earth am I offering at the supermarket?" I wanted to know.

Sam looked at me with a knowing smile.

"You are accepting the role of a child, and passing on your role as a hunter. Take the case of cats and dogs for example. Most dogs eat what is provided. A cat will generally leave gifts for its caretaker on the doorstep. Both animals are domesticated. The cat remains a hunter. Most dogs are not. The role you accept as a supermarket shopper is similar to that of the dog. You are provided for. The aisles are the fields on which you graze."

I thought about what he had said over dinner the previous evening.

"You are accepting a blindfold." He turned to look at me briefly, and then looked towards the mostly naked buck. "I am quite certain you have never seen an animal butchered before. This is the original state of every hamburger you have ever eaten. Shocking that one can live their entire lives divorced from this simple reality."

Sam's eyes glittered darkly.

"In a sense you have become prey, though that is an indirect result."

"I do not see how I could possibly be prey."

"You do not see due to the blindfold. An animal is always cognizant of both their surroundings and anyone in them. People walk around all day with headphones on. I have attempted to expose this truth numerous times during your stay. You are even prey to your fellow man, stalked by every billboard and television commercial. Your excursions to the supermarket are part and parcel of that very role."

He turned back to the carcass and went to work.

"I have introduced you to the Nagual. I told you that the introduction is not without consequence. I am not worried about the money in your wallet. The human race is shadowed by a vast array of spirits that consider people game. Like any commercial, what they prey on is attention. I told you that awareness is the currency of sorcerers. Having an intimate relationship with your food is crucial. The food you eat is a foundation for the very awareness you foster. I suggest when you get home you buy some cookbooks and invest devote some quality of awareness into cooking your food. It is what sustains ones very existence."

Sam was silent for a time as he worked. I simply watched.

"You asked what you offer at the supermarket. If the cows on a farm knew the threat the farmer posed, they would probably not be so docile. Then again, that is the spirit of the grazer. You accept the very same role when you pick up your nicely packaged hamburger. That is what you sacrifice for an easy meal. You become one."

Sam continued both our conversation and his work with without turning to look at me.

"I am worried about the condition of your new state of awareness. That is yet another reason for our hunt. Over the next few months you will have the possibility to eat the spoils of your hunt. Every predator knows its prey intimately. Mankind has sacrificed that knowledge for convenience, and thus cannot identify when they themselves are prey. Other animals do not suffer the same problem."

Sam paused before adding the kicker. "And we are all prey at times."

I still could not see myself as game. This time Sam turned to me, with his knife in hand as he spoke to me directly.

"Put yours self-concern aside for a moment and think about McDonalds. Do you think that the people lined up to buy their quarter pounders are predators, or are they prey?"

The rather gory nature of the scene in front of me lent his argument more weight than I would have liked.

"I still do not see what I am offering of myself when I shop." I tried to argue anyway.

Sam went to work once again.

"You sacrifice direct knowledge of where that food came from, as well as how it arrived on your plate. Our pioneers had an intimate relationship with their food, as it was required for their very survival. They did not need the weather channel. Their attention had an intrinsic tie to their environment. When they had to hop on a horse and ride for half an hour to discuss something with their nearest neighbor you can rest assured that it was a worthwhile discussion. That time would not be wasted. Do you agree?"

I nodded, despite the fact that his attention was on the buck. He did not appear to need my agreement.

"Nowadays we have cell phones in our pockets, every moment of every day. One can text message anyone at any time. The simplicity of speech is not even required. The ease of that communication comes at a price."

"What do you mean by that, Sam?"

"Rent ten old movies and listen to the dialogue in them. Movies earlier than the eighties are best for the task. Afterwards rent ten movies from the last decade. Observe the vapid dialogue pursued in modern film. You can see for yourself the effect."

Sam had almost completely removed the hide by that point. He turned grabbed a saw, and proceeded to remove the back hooves at the elbow, hide and all.

"Every gain and loss one experiences in life has an effect. In a roundabout way I am attempting to answer your question about the supermarket. It is not just the meat you buy that is the issue. It is the fruit and vegetables as well. When you arrive back home and begin looking for a new place to live spend some time and find one with a garden. You would be surprised how much one can learn simply by working the soil."

At the thought of my return home I felt a profound sadness. He placed the saw in the sink by the counter.

"You have a computer, do you not?"

"Of course." I used it in regards to my music for the most part.

"If you do not understand how being a dependent makes one prey, consider the computer for a moment. Do you know anything at all about programming? Can you write code? Can you hack into someone else's computer and see what they do on one?"

"Of course not, Sam."

"Do you think there are people that can do that to yours?"

"Yeah, probably."

"There is something gained and something lost through every exchange, but only in regards to the Tonal. The ease of use that a computer offers engenders dependency. Your computer will do anything you ask of it and you can get anything you want with the click of a mouse. Even if it is not the incessant popup adds and viruses. I told you that if you are not responsible for your actions, someone else is. Responsibility is related to freedom. A computer does anything you request of it. The physical manifestation of the computer casts a reflection. The ease of use engenders dependency. The key is awareness, not convenience, and that is what dictates what one receives in the end. Adversity promotes growth. When you understand that simple truth, you will have gained some personal insight into sorcery."

"That is why you live out here, isn't it Sam?"

"This is my choice, Al. Personally there is very little that society can offer me, other than their agreement that I own this particular parcel of land. I prefer this to a chicken coop, rest assured."

And there was the issue again. I had thought a great deal about what he had said in regards to television commercials, though despite the reality, I still could not accept that I was prey.

I considered what Sam said about the price that was paid.

"We can leave this overnight. There is one last thing we need before packing things in for the night."

Sam took another knife from a shelf and cut into the rump of the animal. When he was finished he held two cuts in either hand. He turned to me with a smile.

"And we have dinner!"

Sam and I had been out the whole day. I was surprised at how much like home his cabin felt after such a short time. I did not even bother asking him if he wanted help in the kitchen, preferring to relax on the couch while he once again went to work.

I thought over our entire conversation for the day. There was something bothering me about what he had said in regards to my introduction to the Nagual. He had said that there were consequences.

During my time with him I had gone through a couple rather traumatic episodes. I attempted to avoid thinking about what he had said in regards to—'the vast array of spirits that considered man game.'

As I lay on the couch and Sam prepared dinner I had another moment of silent realization. Nothing had to change, other than the manner in which I applied my attention in any given situation.

My insight crystalized as I thought about his performance the night before. If what Sam was saying was in fact true, I had been dealing with the forces at large my entire life.

I was simply getting another look at them.

I sat quietly with that realization, as the steaks sizzled on the stove. Soon, dinner was served, and I found myself in the strange position of eating something which I had caught myself. I told myself that it tasted different because it was wild game.

I tried to convince myself of that anyway.

I can honestly say I had never had a steak that was quite so fine. For a time my question went unasked. Once I had finished eating I looked down at my plate, and though I did not want to ask my question, I knew that I had too.

"Sam, you referred to spirits that consider man prey. Are you serious about that, or were you kidding?"

Sam dabbed his mouth with a napkin.

"Oh, I am quite serious. The most valuable thing you own is not kept in your wallet. Scientists say that the largest organ in your body is your skin. Your skin is a tool for perception, much like your eyes and ears. Your awareness is the only thing of value—not your eyes, your ears, or your mouth. Your awareness is who you are. Your physical body will be consumed at some point. It is the awareness that results from that body that carries on. That is also what is considered prey by the forces at large. Your awareness is a sliver of eternity. You are a voice, and as such you have something to say, as does every other form of life. What a sad gift to squander. You do not have to worry about winding up on a plate. What you need to worry about is what holds your attention. That is another game altogether."

"What do you mean, Sam?"

"Before our sweat we discussed the possibility of considering your life a form of art. There is no better way to look at ones existence. In a sense it is a game of you. The choices you make will define who you are in the end. Your ever evolving awareness is a product of all you have focused your attention on beforehand. I told you that one's offering can be as beautiful, or as monstrous, as one may want. That is all life is about in the end—what you experience and who you are. Those experiences can be manipulated. You are not prey in a physical sense, though both what you believe and who you are can be affected by the forces at large. Demons might covet your perversion and sickness, while angels prey on your love and compassion. Society preys on the individual and the relationships one develops. Your relationship fell prey to that very influence. It is why a sorcerer holds a different ticket. There are spirits that can entice ones emotions and awareness directly. That, in the end, is more relevant than your eventual demise. You need to put living above life."

'Unfortunately, life happens.' I considered my realization about the relationship between life and death.

"Socially another game is played altogether. In a social sense you are game, and you must fight at all times to establish your place in the folly. That is a lifelong battle—there is really no escaping it. I struggled for years to establish myself, and this is the result."

He took in his cabin with a familiar gesture. I was curious about something else entirely.

"You mentioned spirits as if they were a threat, Sam." I was thinking about Sam's performance Christmas evening. "Do you truly believe that?"

Sam nodded quietly before answering.

"There are a vast host of spirits in the world, Al. Some of them are benign, some of them are playful, and some are downright malicious. The vast majority of humanity prefers a crown, rather than the reality of its place in nature. The result is that most are blind to the presence of such entities. It was not always that way. Long ago we interacted with those spirits directly. Silent knowledge is every creature's birthright. The human race turned from both silent knowledge and our place alongside such spirits, to the rational knowledge that we claim our own. We did not like our reflection, so we decided to adopt a crown instead. There humanity can rule blind yet unopposed. I told you that the original spirit of the right side is that of a guardian and protector. In modern society the vast majority of your fellow man is in jail, and blind to the presence of that which would benefit them or do them harm. It is a tragedy! We do have the crown though. The sad thing is that the only true relevance in life is found through our adversaries."

I was still curious about those adverse entities.

"Well where are these spirits then, Sam?"

"The mind is a far more sensitive instrument than you can imagine. Physically you need to be wary of a gun or a knife. I might call opinions farts in the wind, but you are correct, socially you must be wary of the opinions of others. In regards to the spirit one must be conscious of one's own beliefs. Therein lies the danger."

I had never considered myself much of a believer. I said as much.

"Most people live blind to their own beliefs. The social body develops through interaction with one's environment. Your friends and family are part of it. Through careful observation of one's environment one can gain self-awareness. I call it the social body, which can be misleading. Even a child raised by wolves would develop a social body—though it would develop in regards to wolves. One cannot escape ones environment, and all creatures must therefore develop a social body. In modern society social dominance is the belief. One cannot escape oneself. Everyone holds beliefs, whether they are spiritually inclined or not. It is why the sorcerers have developed the catch phrase, 'And Yet--.' We are even at the mercy of our own beliefs."

Silence fell between us for a time. Sam did not intrude on it. When I went through my little bout of insanity after meeting the Nagual, the sorcerer's catch phrase had helped enormously. Sam seemed to be insinuating was that manipulating my own beliefs could be beneficial. I suppose it would result in a change of perspective.

And I had decided to take Sam seriously.

"In regards to society, your position is dependent on your social interactions." Sam continued. "There is a far more insidious aspect of life that I am attempting to bring to light. If the social body is to the right of the physical body, then the mind is to the right of the social body. We are even at the mercy of our own thoughts. In regards to the mind we truly are game. That is where our true adversaries reside. The worst are the passive predators, which whisper pleasantries in order to co-opt one's mind. Most people are completely blind to the reality of those entities, and as such are easy prey."

The hunt had taken a great deal out of me. I really did not want to think about my own role anymore. I asked my final question before turning in for the evening.

"So where are these spirits, Sam?"

"They have been with you every moment of your life."

I had driven far out of town to deal with my issues. Sam's statement took me full circle. There was really nowhere to hide.

Our discourse for the night was at an end. After Sam and I had taken our leave of each other I spent my time thinking about my haunting Christmas day.

Passive Predators

When I woke the next morning I lay in bed and spent some time thinking about my conversations with Sam. I had been exposed to a completely foreign methodology. I came up with little in the way of answers as I reminisced. The dream of silent knowledge and the gate was a vague, though comforting memory. My haunting Christmas day inspired quite a different emotion, although the celestial music had been lovely beyond words. The vision of the tree was perhaps the most profound of my experiences, though once again I was left wondering.

Sam had said that there were consequences to an introduction to the Nagual. Sam also said that I witnessed his little tree with the totality of my being. Later in life I would realize that the consequences were dictated by my own personality.

After rising and having a pleasant breakfast with Sam I asked one of many questions.

"Sam, before your performance Christmas day I had never heard voices before." My thoughts were on the friend I knew who had been diagnosed with schizophrenia. I had come to the conclusion that there were actually entities involved in my Christmas haunting.

"That is a fallacy, Al. You have been hearing voices your entire life. You simply consider those voices to be your own."

I preferred the ones I considered my own.

"Is it possible the spirits will simply leave me alone?"

I was hoping he would say no. His response was quiet laughter.

"It is actually easier to escape ones physical companions. We have already touched on concept of the internal dialogue. You simply consider your internal dialogue to be your own voice. Language is the bridge between two individuals. When you are quietly conversing with yourself who are you talking too? That dialogue is ultimately a conversation between you and the social body of humanity."

"I am quite certain that the voices in my head are my own." I wish I could have said it with certainty.

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Why say to yourself, 'Hey, I should go to the store!'" Sam paused for a moment. "If those thoughts are your own, why not simply go to the store? The internal dialogue ultimately allows you to lie to yourself. Animals do not have a language, so they have an easier time of it. The mind is a shared commodity, much like the environment. Your feet are your own. The only purpose of language is as a bridge between two individuals. The problem arises from the realization that what goes on in your head is not always of your own choosing. Many people fall ill in response. You must understand that your mind is as much a part of your body as the environment. One cannot control the mind, nor can one control the weather. Once again, your feet are your own."

"Why are you telling me this?"

"The vision of the crown in our reflection is yet another lie, I am afraid. In general the spirits we deal with in modern times take a passive role. They tell us comforting fallacies about ourselves, which are very tempting to accept. Most people live and die as part of society without ever knowing or being given a choice otherwise. I am simply giving you a choice."

I sensed danger, and I realized that my own internal dialogue had fallen silent as a result. I had the chance of freedom when my truck made its appearance in the driveway.

I had decided to stay anyway.

"I do not see how I can operate without thinking." Even as I said it I once again remembered perfection as an athlete playing sports. Those were moments without thought.

"The internal dialogue is ones participation with the world at large. Your participation is necessary, as is my own. I am participating through my relationship with you. In a sense you are the voice with which I will communicate. The thoughts in your head are an agreement, and as an agreement they include more than just yourself. The spirit is not simply a voice in your head, it is your emotional state, your intellect, and your physicality. If a spirit were to say something completely contrary to your nature, the presence of the foreign invader would be obvious. I have said on many occasions that the right side is agreement. If you were exposed to a voice completely contrary to your nature you would be suspicious of those whispers. For the most part our mind simply tells us what we want to hear, and unfortunately we spend the vast majority of our lives living bereft of truth. It is a result of the internal dialogue. Inner silence is the bridge between ourselves and our inner landscape. Therein one finds truth. The lies we would rather believe are simply how our attention is effectively co-opted."

"How could anyone possibly know what goes on in my head." It took me a moment to realize my own thoughts, as I was angry about what Sam was insinuating. Sam was a sorcerer? What a joke! He was a lonely old man. It took a moment to register consciously. I found what I was telling myself both rude and shocking.

I had more respect for Sam than that, whether I agreed with him or not.

"The mind that you consider to be your own is simply a foreign construct—an agreement to designed to pacify you. You still have a mind, I assure you. That mind is simply your body, which in turn is a part of the environment. There is a time and a place for everything. I gave you a demonstration of that Christmas day."

I am not certain what Sam read in my expression. Sam offered a lopsided smile. I suddenly wished I could go outside and split some wood.

"My mind is my own, Sam." And I knew I was losing ground. Who was I talking to anyway? I wished that I sounded more confident. Sam had said that he changed his mind when he changed his shirt. I had to admit that that mentality would lend stability.

"The running commentary in your head has been present since you were very young. It begins to develop after the social body does. It also operates in the very same manner that your identity has been dictated by society. They are both expressions to the right of the individual. Your environment is far more reliable, and will not lie to you for its own benefit."

I was rather unhappy with the place at which our conversation had arrived. It was like what Sam had said about the social body all over again. I came to the conclusion that I simply could not accept the fact that I was not in control.

I could only wonder what the weather was like outside.

"What I am attempting to elucidate is that your brain is part of your body and your body is part of your environment. That being the case, your environment is in fact part of your mind. That is the conclusion sorcerers have come to through simple observation."

I was silent as I considered his statement about my environment. He had said that my mind and the environment were shared commodities. My feet were my own. I would have all the time in the world, after leaving Sam's company, to come to my own understanding in regards to the internal dialogue. He let the silence settle as I once again took in my surroundings.

I could not complain. My internal dialogue was not as amendable. As I observed my own inner voice I felt defeated. My thoughts in no way reflected the gentleman before me.

"If you spend some time with your thoughts you may come to the same conclusion. Simply observe objectively. Most people have an internal dialogue that runs constantly. It is also something they are blind too. What you consider your 'mind' is quite separate from your body. You simply accept it as the reality."

He rose and left me with my thoughts. I felt rather set upon, but since he had brought up the internal dialogue it had become more pronounced, and I was not particularly happy with it at that moment.

My response was to attempt to do as he asked. When I came to that decision I realized that the act of paying attention was actually separate from the running commentary that went on in my head. I pondered that for a time.

I also realized a simple truth. When I focused my attention on my internal dialogue it rose to the forefront. Sam had said that attention bestows energy in a reciprocal relationship with that which is observed.

The thoughts in my head once again attempted denial.

I decided to try something different. I decided to focus my attention on the surroundings rather than my internal dialogue. Sam's cabin was lovely, and it was something I wanted to remember anyway. When I did so the internal chatter diminished gradually. I spent some time taking note of various aspects of the place where so many of my conversations had taken place over the past week. As my thoughts quieted spent some time wondering what form of energy I was contributing to the surroundings and that which I was receiving in return.

I still found it difficult to accept that the cabin was my mind. That being said, I realized I would rather contribute to the surroundings rather than the voice in my head.

Sam broke me out of my reverie when he asked if I would be willing to go out and get some more wood for the evening. It was exactly what I had been looking forward to earlier, and I was more than happy to do as I was asked. If I had a foreign mind that I called my own it was more familiar than his theory.

That mind was something I was unhappy with at the moment, and physical exertion was another way to deal with it.

I put my coat and boots on and went out to the wood pile. I had never been aware of it before but I did talk to myself ceaselessly. That was not the only thing that bothered me though.

His question as to who on earth I was conversing to had me in a quandary. The only acceptable response I could come to was that I was talking to myself.

It should not be necessary. I will admit it is difficult to question something which had been part of you for as long as you can remember.

When I engaged myself physically, my internal dialogue once again receded, just as it had when I placed my attention on my surroundings.

Sam had said that attention was the true currency of existence. I set about the task Sam had given me. As I split the wood I focused my attention on the physical task at hand. I was aware of my body, the axe, and the wood that required splitting. When I focused on what I was doing I found that it was as if the axe and I where a complete unit. When I focused on my thoughts on my mind itself my internal dialogue became more pronounced. When I did so the work I was doing suffered.

I realized it was possible to experiment with Sam's theory.

I considered what he had said about the relationship between a mother and child. If were to use my own experience chopping wood as an example I had to admit that awareness provided sustenance in some manner.

When my inner dialogue rose to the forefront my work suffered. What was that conversation lending energy too?

I finished splitting the last few logs. I then took some from the fresh pile and back into the cabin. Sam observed me quietly. Afterwards I took my coat off and sank once more into the couch.

I could not help defending my mind.

"Sam, I still do not see how my own thoughts make me prey. I have been this way my entire life. Are you telling me that my life up to this point has been forfeit?"

Sam raised his eyebrows.

"We all contribute in our own way, Al. The life of a cow born on a farm is forfeit from the start. It still contributes in its own way. Do you think that you have some special privilege? Awareness is a form of energy. It is the product of life itself. I have explained that you are everything you experience in life. What you pay attention to receives your energy, and in turn contributes to your totality. Many spirits simply play a simple, passive game. They occupy the 'mind,' which is erroneously considered to be the 'self.' Most people spend their lives in front of a mirror. That 'mind' generally receives all ones attention. The result is that most people are pacified by pleasant fallacies throughout their lives. Those are the lies that compose the modern world. If our thoughts were accurate, they would tell you a story similar to the one I am telling you now. It is a reality most would rather avoid."

And I suppose I was no different. Sam regarded me calmly before continuing.

"I have tried to explain that the eyes are not made for looking in the mirror. They are made to observe the world around you. Your ears are just the same, they are there so that you can listen to other voices. By utilizing your senses you can gain self-awareness. It is not found in a mirror. When the crown reigns supreme, that which offered us the crown has us in hand."

He caught my eyes and held my attention.

"You are your body, Al. Your mind is the world around you, and you can think and act accordingly. Most people consider themselves a floating ball on a string. The string is the social body, and the mind is a running commentary for most. The body holding the ball is the social body, which is therefore subject to the influence of the society that made it. If those entities that crave our attention were to act aggressively, we would be wise to the fact that that mind is something separate and apart. The passive predators rule. They whisper pleasantries and for most, and they therefore capture all ones attention. The appeal is undeniable!"

Sam looked to the fire.

"The fight against self-importance a life-long battle. Most are lost to a reflection, and unaware of the forces that manipulate them. Society works the same way, by convincing us that the opinions of others are of utmost importance. Opinions are the truth of society, though they need no physical basis in reality. One therefore winds up defending ones identity, which amounts to nothing more than an ego. When your true self is defined by everyone around you, where does the ego reside? Our potential is squandered through vanity. What a shame."

"And what is our potential, Sam?"

Sam broke out into quiet laughter.

"Not only are we given the opportunity to shape a sliver of eternity, we get to explore that very eternity! What a gift! Now you are conscious of that very gift. You can take it and create what you will. Our potential is the capacity to take that awareness in hand, and contribute something extraordinary. Society convinces us that the opinions of others are the most important thing in the world. It gets simply giddy over the right to vote, and is therefore appeased by that very right. The social gift ignores the reality. You have the right to vote for whomever you want, whenever you want, in whatever manner you choose."

Sam paused for a moment.

"In the same fashion, the mind attempts to convince us that our thoughts are all important. The mind works to its own ends. Why would we think differently? In the comfort of the mind we have complete freedom. We will discuss this in further detail shortly. The mind is actually less relevant than the social body."

"What about the sorcerers mind, Sam?"

"A sorcerer approaches life knowing full well that his awareness is ultimately who they are. We are physical beings, and that is where the vast majority of one's attention should reside. A sorcerer thinks through the environment."

I remained puzzled by his insistence on using the environment as a mind.

"How on earth do you think through your environment?"

"Consider it a sense of style. When you are out shopping, Al, consider the item of clothing you are about to buy closely. What is that article of clothing saying? When you wear it, what statement are you making? When you are at home consider the music you are about to play, as well as how that music will affect your consciousness. A sorcerer does not squander his potential. A sorcerer revels in the gift he was given."

Sam had broached more than a few topics which I found uncomfortable. The least of which was the inevitability of being a meal. The topics that bothered me the most were related. I sat in silence and considered them carefully. Other than being consumed, both Sam's concept of the social body and his concept of the mind as shared property were what caused me the most difficulty.

They were something over which I had little control.

Sam was a silent presence across from me. Sara was somewhere else entirely, both physically and emotionally. I could honestly say that my relationship was over for the very first time. When I turned my thoughts to the ideas that caused me the most difficulty I realized that they were those over which I had little control. I loathed the idea that could do nothing about aspects of my very own personality.

And Yet—I had had no control over Sara, though I had loved her dearly. I also realized that the love remained, it was the pain of her memory that was absent.

I also realized that I did have control, and there I was, with Sam for company.

In my mind's eye I saw a door frame with nothing but rubble behind it. I came to the realization that there were times when a lack of control was a blessing in disguise.

Sam told me that a sorcerer's journey was the journey home. He had also said that a sorcerer was always present. I had left town in an effort to deal with my issues, and I realized at that moment that I had, in fact, dealt with those issues. Sam was sitting across from me. Sara was not.

I considered the animal which had crossed my path, the result of which was my going off the road. I came to the realization that in some cases, lack of control was a blessing in disguise. I looked over at Sam sitting across from me and realized that I had achieved my intended goal, though the manner in which I had accomplished it was foreign to that which I knew.

I had also been told that self-awareness came from observing your environment and those around you.

I considered who I was before being confronted by the NO SOLICITORS sign on Sam's doorstep, as well as the senile old man who had imperiously requested my license. Now that I knew Sam, and had listened to his theories, I could only wonder if the senile version was an act, or if it was my own reflection which had confronted me.

I found myself feeling set upon had to make an exit.

I excused myself and told Sam I was going for a walk. I needed some time away from both Sam and his theory. Sam did not offer anything in the way of disagreement. The solitude seemed necessary for some reason.

I spent over an hour exploring Sam's property. The environment offered both comfort and silent encouragement.

I guess I was home.

A Penny for your Thoughts

During my walk I attempted to quiet my inner dialogue as much as possible. The easiest way was to focus on the scenery. Sam had said that our true mind was the environment. There were trees all around me.

I could only wonder what I was thinking.

I thought about my vision with the Nagual, and was humbled by the fact that although I could describe a tree for hours, I could never create one. Later in life I would come to the conclusion that some form of worship was necessary. It could be the worship of the woman you were with, or it could be awe in ones surroundings. At that moment I was lacking a girl, but the scenery was a welcome diversion. My internal dialogue, unable to compete with either the snow or the trees, eventually fell silent.

I spent over an hour exploring on my own.

When I grew tired of admiring Sam's property, I came to a few decisions in regards to my own home. When I returned I would take a great deal of care when I was out shopping. I was part of the universe, and could shape my awareness any way I wanted. That much of Sam's theory was easy enough to accept. Even if control was an illusion, I could decide what I wanted to buy.

My awareness could take any form I wanted. I might have guests over from time to time, and when I did, I would include them as part of my awareness. Sam said that the goal of the universe was self-awareness. It simply seemed odd that one gained self-awareness through others.

When I arrived back at the cabin I walked in and greeted Sam. I took in the simplicity of Sam's décor, not focusing on anything in particular. Sam remained a mystery, but if he truly believed what he was saying in regards to the environment, the mind of my host had been visible during the entirety of my stay.

As I looked around I realized that I truly liked him. Sam had given me the name Al during one of what would be many introductions. Sam had said that my social ties were not welcome. I realized that I truly liked Al as well. When I returned home I would carefully go to work creating a home of my own.

Within the confines of Sam's cabin I was 'Al.' At home 'Al' would be no more.

We had both taken our seats. I was thinking about my return home, as well as the social body and the need to find a new place of residence.

I raised an eyebrow as I regarded Sam, mimicking a gesture Sam had performed so often in my presence. My question was a decision in its own right.

"If you were moving into a new place, Sam, and had to deal with the social body, what would you do?"

Sam burst out laughing. "Do you like salesman?" Was his response.

For some reason Sam's laughter elicited a strange response. I came to the decision that upon my return I would go to work developing my own sense of style.

"What is crucial," Sam continued, "is to come to an understanding with yourself first. When we first started talking, you thought you knew yourself. I have a different opinion. As a sliver of eternity you are a mystery unto yourself. We have already discussed opinions, and mine is no more relevant than anyone else's. You have been introduced to the Nagual. You must simply devote yourself to becoming self-aware. Energy spent in self-absorption is wasted attention. You just left my company to go for a walk." Sam waved at a window. "Your awareness is your true wealth, and you cannot give yourself something that you already have."

He sighed.

"It is not entirely peoples fault. Most people live their lives in front of the mirror, because that is what they have learned from everyone around them. The argument is persuasive. You are beautiful! Lovely beyond all imagining! Why would you look at anything else?"

Sam snorted playfully.

"I am afraid I cannot give you advice in dealing with those you know. I do not know them myself. Your own introduction to the Nagual is now an established reality in our own relationship."

I thought about my guitar for some reason. Sam had said that the left side was the seat of creativity. I would simply build a home somewhere to the right, and my own home would include both my own sense of style and those I knew. I had to assume that that included both the mind and the social body in some manner.

"The easiest way add to yourself is to cultivate inner silence. Inner silence is the bridge between the individual and their inner landscape. That being said, the odd thing about the world is that the entire thing is a conversation. Both your body language and your personal taste are forms of communication." Sam voiced the thought I had had earlier in regards to his own mind. "That being the case, there is nothing hidden in the world. Everything can be observed directly. You can see what something is by observing the surface. People always say beauty is only skin deep. That very beauty says something as well."

He looked at me and batted his eyelashes. I had to smile. My smile led to another question.

"I suppose vanity is an expression all of its own."

Sam beamed in approval.

"Being beautiful is easy. You can tell a great deal by looking no further than the surface. Consider that in regards to the people you know."

When I turned my thoughts towards my friends and family I once again experienced that strangely divided state of being. 'Al' was something separate altogether.

I realized that part of me would always be 'Al.' It would turn into a lovely foundation from which to observe people when I returned home.

For some reason I actually looked forward to it. Our talk after that returned to those I knew. I realized that Sam was not attempting to get to know my friends, he was attempting to understand me.

We ate a brief lunch and then went back to work. The afternoon found the two of us back in the shop with what remained of my buck. Sam worked slowly and I found myself a different kind of student for a time. He patiently explained different ways to cut the buck into more manageable pieces. I was happy for the change of pace. The gory sight of my kill and thoughts of my return home seemed complementary in some way.

I looked on in interest and learned what I could.

Sam coached me while he worked on the buck. It was a welcome break from the discussion of sorcery, which I still found strangely taxing at times. At that point sorcery was still a concept, rather than a reality. My personal sense of style and door to door salesmen were at the forefront of my mind.

When I thought of my arrival on Sam's doorstep I came to a number of conclusions. My time with Sam was a personal experience. I really could not see myself sharing anything about my time with him back home. At that moment I really had no idea what to make of it myself.

That would only come later.

When we finished with the buck Sam separated the meat into a small portion for himself for what I had consumed during my stay with him, and what remained was for myself. I would not have to buy meat upon my return home for quite some time. Sam left two steaks for our dinner, telling me that we would wrap the meat in the morning. When we returned to the cabin Sam went to work in the kitchen preparing dinner.

After dinner the topic of conversation turned once again to the mind. We discussed the internal dialogue for a time and I wound up asking a question.

"You do not seem to put much stock in the mind at all Sam."

Sam shook his head.

"It is not that, Al. As people we are blessed with a wonderful tool. The mind, by being something that is 'not,' allows free will. The mind can be applied very effectively by those who understand it. Partially due to the forces at large, we are convinced that our thoughts are who we are. As a sorcerer I have a completely different opinion."

"And what is that, Sam?"

"The mind is a gift. It allows one the capacity for both free will and creativity. The mind creates possibilities that never existed prior to the thought in question. Those possibilities then have the potential to become reality. When an individual thinks they are effectively opting out of life. Those thoughts still have to be realized physically. Animals do not have a 'mind' as such. Thoughts are the possibilities, not the reality, so when an individual considers the mind to be who they are, they are in a sense invalidating themselves."

"I really do not understand your point." I sounded petulant for some reason.

"I told you that the seat of creativity is the left side. That is true. Creativity is, however, expressed through the right side. When someone is occupied in creative endeavors they must utilize the mind as well. They must make something of nothing, and that is where the mind comes in. Certainly you can dream up a poem. A thought is something which must always be realized physically."

"You have said this a number of times. Are you telling me that the mind is nothing?"

"In a sense. That mind is something that can be realized if one can grasp the opportunity. The problem occurs when people think that those thoughts are something in and of themselves. If you write down your poem, or have the capacity to remember it, then the thought is realized. I simply want you to realize that thoughts are nothing in and of themselves."

For some reason I once again felt a strong urge to play my guitar. I asked Sam if he would mind, and he beamed encouragingly. As I cradled the guitar in my lap I silently asked myself a question. Was my desire to play a thought, or was it some other impulse? My desire to play for Sam was tangible. It felt right for some reason.

I played a few songs, and realized as I was playing that I felt better than I had in a long time. I felt comfortable and truly at home.

When I was done Sam brought me into the kitchen and surprised me by pulling the table out of the way. He urged me to sit in my seat, and moved everything out of reach. Sam's unpredictable nature always made me a little nervous.

Sam went to a cupboard and withdrew a large jar of pennies. He spent some time looking for something in particular. He then walked over to me and handed me an old Indian-head penny.

"In order to understand existence you must be aware of the nature of both the passive and the aggressive. For the most part the mind takes a passive role. The environment is aggressive. I will now give you a demonstration of both the left and right sides."

I was looking at the penny wondering about the relevance.

"This penny is my example of the left side of awareness. The left side is the aggressive side. That penny is the penny that you should find. I will place it somewhere in the cabin with the intent that you find it before you go. Intent is expressed through the Nagual."

He then told me to lift my feet.

"This is an example of the right side of existence. You should avoid touching these pennies at all costs. You do not want a repeat of Christmas Eve, of course."

I looked at the jar in Sam's hands with suspicion. Sam then proceeded to take handful after handful of pennies out of the jar and spread them all over the floor around me.

"I want you to decide which is aggressive."

Sam then left me with my feet in the air and put his coat on, exiting the cabin. I was left with thousands of pennies all around me. I considered standing on the chair and seeing if I could just over the pennies, but I decided that was stupid.

It did not take me long to realize that I had to piss.

8

Pioneering

The Founding

The next morning Sam and I worked packaging both of our portions of meat. What remained of the buck was hauled out a ways from the cabin, and left for the wildlife to finish off. In the end I was shocked at the quantity that I would be taking home.

I had both repaid Sam and provided for myself as well. I suppose we both benefited from our time together.

In that sense I was the hunter.

I looked forward to cooking for my friends upon my return. I realized that like my music, my association with Sam was a personal thing. I would tell my friends about the accident and that I had been taken in by a strange old man. That was all.

When we had finished with the buck and the meat that was mine was secured in the back of my truck we returned to the cabin.

After taking our places in the living room we began one of our final conversations together.

"I have told you on many occasions that the only thing of value to a sorcerer is one's awareness." Sam began.

"You have made that very clear, Sam."

"The evolutionary development of human consciousness has been interrupted. Evolution is brought about by our pioneers—those who break fresh ground. Physically there is nowhere new to explore on the planet. If we are going to grow and develop, our explorations must be perceptual by nature. Our evolutionary progress has been arrested by forces in the universe at large. Those forces would like nothing more than to keep humanity in the dark permanently."

And why were we left in the dark?

"It makes us easy prey. You would never arm your adversary. It is the contention of sorcerers that dark matter is awareness itself. I have told you that consciousness and awareness is a form of energy with rules of its own. The human race is kept in the dark for that very reason. If the people in general understood the value of awareness, they would never sit through commercials. Our society runs on its own ignorance."

I was still not overly fond of the idea that I would wind up on a plate at some point. The other issue was that I really did not understand was how to defend my own awareness. I said as much.

"You defend your awareness through active observation, rather than unconscious expectation. Every form of awareness requires energy to function. If you focus your attention on your adversaries they benefit, in much the same way that your wallet suffers when you sit through commercials." Sam commented. "In regards to one form of energy the human race is quite knowledgeable. Our scientists are very adept at studying energy that moves in a straight line from point A to point B. They have identified light and sound and various other energetic expressions."

Sam caught my eyes and held them.

"What our scientists are completely blind too is that there is an energetic expression that has eluded them completely—that of awareness itself. I told you that self-awareness is achieved through the active observation of others. The entire universe is aware. Unfortunately, the camel cannot see its own hump. I told you once that you can claim to be anything you want in life. One must simply back those claims up physically. Most things react to that which is on its own level. In order for anything spiritual to manifest in the physical realm it needs a physical ground. The language of the crows deals exclusively with the energy that bestows awareness. They are PHD's in regards to awareness, while humanity is as yet a toddler."

"You said that about crows once before." Later in our association Sam would speak with me at great length about crows. At that moment he had other things on his mind.

"Energy that moves from point A to point B is rational and easily quantifiable. It is the focus of science, and is linear by nature. Awareness is not so easily measured. The distance involved, in regards to awareness, is irrelevant. We discussed people with a bi-polar mood disorder at one point. Mania is the product of claims without a physical foundation, and a manic individual will gather more and more energy until they wind up in a state of psychosis. One can claim anything one wants in life, and those claims are inevitably realized. The manner in which those claims are realized is up to the universe, in very same the same manner that you arrived on my doorstep. I really did not know who would show up, but it was inevitable that it was someone in your situation. Backing your claims up takes skill and discipline."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Awareness is not necessarily rational. Every individual has experienced different circumstances in life, so the science of awareness is therefore subjective by nature. It therefore an abstract science. Unfortunately it is something that the human mind struggles with."

During my time with Sam I had had nothing but trouble in my attempts to classify his belief system. He called sorcery an abstract science. I still had the business card in my wallet. Sam was saying that awareness could be studied and explored.

I could only wonder about the validity of his claim. Once again the white rabbit appeared in my mind. 'I'm late! I'm late! For a very important date!'"

"I told you that a sorcerer's path is a solitary one. We are like apples on a tree. Ones journey is always a solitary affair, though we are connected to the rest through the spirit. Humanity has a dull link with the spirit. It is the result of our ignorance in regards to our own role as game. We are slivers of eternity, and each and every one of us is an eternity equal to the rest. You can consider the spirit of an individual its connection to the tree. In the end the apple drops, and contains within itself the potential for a new life. That is my investment in you. Most never succeed."

"If there are rules and conditions to awareness I would love to hear them, Sam." If I was to defend my awareness I needed some knowledge of the rules.

Sam smiled. His next comment answered my question, as well as lending relevance to some of the heavier music I listened too.

"If your soul is ever in jeopardy in regards to one marked by the beast, the mark must be made visible to you." Sam's candid tone in regards to religion caught me completely off guard. "One must be conscious and cognizant of the consequences of ones actions, or no permanent harm can be done. You must be warned first. It is a responsible universe, and everything must advertise. The best form of worship is the simple act of paying attention. One can learn an enormous amount simply observing the surface of things. The strange thing about life is that if you do not understands something, ultimately it does not matter. I told you that once before. Unless we are made aware of the consequences for our actions, those actions can cause no permanent harm. One can still die, but death is an inevitability for us all. The abstract nature arises from the fact that the warning is generally tailored to suit ones personality. It is dictated by one's own nature."

"Are you religious, Sam?" Sam's referral to the mark of the beast surprised me. For some reason I found the possibility that Sam was religiously inclined shocking. Sam responded with a smile and a smartass comment.

"Try walking through the walls of a church someday, you can rest assured that you will bump your head. I told you that in order for anything to exist it requires a physical foundation. Religion exists. That being said, the rules of awareness have nothing to do with religion whatsoever, although they are part of religion just the same. The forces that drive religion are present as well. A frog that uses poison as a defense mechanism is brightly colored to warn predators. If those predators listen they are not harmed. A rattle snake warns with its rattle. It is a rule of awareness. Having said that, I have no real idea of the religious inclination of either frogs or snakes, although both have a singular dream as their foundation."

Sam smiled.

"Every possibility exists in regards to one's environment. A church is the manifestation of religious ideals. I have called people a sliver of eternity. One is limited by one's own nature, and is thus only privy to their own sliver—their Tonal. I told you that the proper role of the Tonal is that of a guardian and a protector. The Tonal of man was offered a crown, and that reflection has plagued us ever since. The Tonal exists in order protect us from possibilities we cannot deal with. The reflection of a crown has turned our guardian into a jailor. As for myself, I would prefer a guardian. The universe is infinite in both complexity and beauty. It is one of the reasons for my solitary existence. I want to experience that universe for the duration of my existence. You cannot sell me that beauty. It is free for any who decides to take notice."

I thought about the 'NO SOLICITORS,' sign hanging from his doorknob. I had to admit he had a point.

"You seem to place a great deal of emphasis on solitude, Sam."

"If the isolated nature of awareness were not a reality, then one could be taken unawares. Our living connection is through the spirit. Your hunting trip was successful because your offer was true. The spirit of the animal in question accepted that offer in return for its life. In the end it is the spirit that matters, not the lifespan of the animal in question. Spiritually speaking the buck is fine. I described life, and the very physicality of existence itself, as an agreement. In a physical sense, the act of rape is a reality. That does not hold true in regards to awareness. If a young man takes advantage of a young girl at a party, and forces himself upon her, thinking the whole time that she wanted him, in the eyes of the universe he is innocent. That young man can and should still serve time for his crime. Ultimately we are our own judge and jury. I will repeat this once again, evil must be seen and recognized in order to proliferate."

His eyes glittered darkly. "Some people refer to a soul. You can call it what you want. Sorcerers prefer the spirit, and in doing so identify the reality of the movement and change which life engenders. In regards to the spirit, rape is not an option. That which is yours must be conceded in the full light of consciousness."

Sam fell silent while I pondered the ramifications of his odd assertion. I found it difficult to believe that a rapist could be innocent in the eyes of the universe, though guilty in the eyes of man.

"You are saying I must be warned of any threat beforehand."

"Oh it need not be a threat, it could be as gentle as a kiss. Yes, one must be made aware."

I felt a strange calm settle over me. I had said nothing about my haunting Christmas day, as disturbing as it was. I understood that Sam had a point to make, but I was still wounded by the experience. I had to ask.

"You scared the hell out of me Christmas evening, Sam. You gave me no warning in regards to the voices at all. I do not remember sending your spirits, if that is what they were, a Christmas card as an invitation."

Sam raised his eyebrows expressively.

"If you think about it you will see that the seed to everything you experienced that night resided within yourself. Your appreciation for music allowed the possibility of a song. It was your hurt and loss that fueled the negativity of the night in question. In a sense it was your own expression—your agreement which made it possible. I call that which resides in the 'mind' a passive predator, which operates through ones agreement for the most part. Aggressive acts are easily identified and rejected. If I told you that you were a loser you would defend yourself. If I say something nice you will probably acquiesce. It is why most predators operate in a passive manner, through the right side. In sorcery it is described as the sweet-water kill. The hurt, love, and joy that reside each of us can manifest a profound manner."

What I had been missing in regards to that evening was my own part in things. Suddenly Tonal agreement took on new meaning for me. Perhaps control was an illusion, but I realized I still had a part to play.

I had to verify something that I already knew intuitively.

"Why must a sorcerer's path be a solitary one?"

"Everyone's path is a solitary affair. We can still find comfort with others. If you take the metaphor of an apple into consideration, our connection to the rest of existence is ultimately through tree. It is not that is must be. It simply is."

I was struggling. "Well where do the other apples come in, Sam?"

Sam smiled.

"One must simply change the metaphor of the apple on the tree a little. The connection an apple has to the physicality of existence is through the tree. Having said that, one must take into the consideration that one cannot paint a painting without a canvas. If you want to paint a painting of an apple, the canvas is definitely required. One can consider the canvas the universe at large. We are the apples. The physical reality of our situation is that we are mostly empty space. The universe, like the canvas, is present through and through."

I had grown accustomed to his repeated references to the left and right side, and along with them, the concept of levels. His picture of an apple, be it on a canvas or a tree, simply complemented the story he had told to date.

I waited for him to continue

"As human awareness has developed over time its evolutionary expression has become lighter and fluffier. In regards to the humanities dream, which revolves around wealth and value, the same holds true. At one point in time what was valued was skill and ability. Although ones skill is not a tangible asset like paper money, in the end it is skill that is of value. As the dream of humanity evolved, ones skill and ability were represented by precious metals. I told you all gold was forged in the heart of a star. In the beginning the gold standard held true. As time progressed our paper bills were regarded as legal tender. That meant that one could not refuse payment with such currency."

Sam's expression was filled with amusement for some reason unknown to me.

"Nowadays there are businesses that simply will not accept hard currency. The stock market is driven by algorithms. The dream of wealth and money is now represented by ones and zeros, as opposed to anything tangible. In order for something to have relevance it needs a physical foundation. We move further from that every day."

Sam winked and smiled.

"You can build a sword or a suit of armor if you are a blacksmith, Al. You can also do a lot of damage with a solid gold bar in a sock. Paper money is far less effective. Ones and zeros are the lightest, fluffiest manifestation of all."

I could not say I completely understood his point. Sam's expression had me puzzled. I did not understand the reason for his amusement.

"Why are you smiling, Sam? What you are describing sounds like a problem."

"I am smiling due to the fact that I am alive to witness the conception of a new stage in human development. You are quite correct in what you have said. It is a problem. Humanity as a whole moves further from the environment which sustains it day by day. The solution is also present in the here and now. I know that my existence is dependent on the environment. I am a world before I am a man. The human race will realize their place or perish."

"And that makes you happy, Sam?"

"It means that there will be an inevitable end to the folly. Life, and the resulting awareness, is precious. In the end, that gift will no longer be squandered. I do not rejoice in the waste, what I revel in is the solution the universe provides."

"And what is that, pray tell?"

"The solution is the nature of life itself. When a species works in agreement with the environment it evolves and grows. If it does not that species is doomed to perish. Existence is beautiful. You quoted that insurance advertisement when during one of our first discussions. 'Unfortunately, life happens.' That folly is at an end."

"You sound very certain of that."

"The human expression has reached the end of a pendulum swing. Ones and zeros are the end of the swing. The result can be witnessed presently, though it will take time to manifest. It is my hope that people will realize their place as part of nature. Our thinking is quite backwards. The left side comes first; the right side is the goal. We place thought above physical acts. We put our dream of wealth and value above the only true wealth we have, which is our environment. Modern society is feeding on the individuals which compose it. As a result, humanity is rapidly going broke."

Sam's expression was serious.

"We do not need sleep due to the fact that we spend time awake consciously—we have the capacity for consciousness due to the fact that we sleep and dream. If a species fails at its own dream, so does the species. I do not have the same problem, so my eternity is sustainable. The same cannot be said for most."

Sam's talk of dreams brought back memories of my trip to Australia. I had gone on my own for about eight months. I suppose my travels were an example of what Sam called pioneering. Australia had been new for me, if not for those who lived there. I found that when I backpacked across Australia my dreams were very vivid. I am not certain why. The same thing had been occurring during my stay at Sam's cabin.

"You think dreams are important, Sam?"

"I told you that money is a dream. Every unique Tonal has a fundamental dream which serves as the foundation. Money also makes the world go around for humanity. Every object you see in your environment has another side as well, which in a sense, is related to a dream. The dreamer comes first, waking consciousness is the goal. Underneath, like a dream, reality is fluid and in constant motion. It is our waking consciousness that holds the world fixed in place. I call the waking agreement that holds reality fixed in place the God mind. If the God mind is every page of a book, every meaning and nuance, from beginning to end, then the Devil mind is the meaning contained in every separate sentence; the meaning behind every individual word."

Sam rose and once again retrieved the carving of the crow from the mantle. He placed it on the table between us.

"The universe does not play favorites. Ultimately there is no right or wrong, and there are no good or evil numbers. It is people who dictate the meaning and relevance of any expression. In regards to crows, the number five is related to the individual. It is a warning light, an amber alert. Six is the dissolution of the individual into its separate component parts and pieces. Seven is the reintegration of the individual in accordance with a social consciousness. You were a six when you arrived on my doorstep. A number is only good or evil in regards to the individual who expresses it. People who are fragmented should look to the God mind to unite there being as a whole. Those who are too stable and rigid in their being should look to the Devil mind in order to grow. Consider an expensive bottle of wine. A connoisseur will be able to pick out every nuance of oak and berry in a fine wine. It is the spice of life."

Although the crows were still a mystery to me, they were something I would listen to through the years that passed.

At that moment I could not really say whether I was being put together or torn apart. Perhaps one can embody more than one expression in regards to different people. Sam's opinion in regards to the folly put my return home in question.

"Sorcerers are pioneers, and awareness is their mode of conveyance." Sam continued. "A sorcerer therefore chooses to live in a fluid universe, one that resembles a dream. That being the case, much of my waking activity is dependent on what occurs while I am asleep. It is true for everyone, though sorcerers do it consciously."

I was struggling with the concept of a waking dream. I looked at the painting above the mantle, and returned to the memory of silent knowledge. Later I would realize understand that what Sam was saying was correct. It is people who create right and wrong, and that as time passes, what was at one point considered wrong, could in time be viewed very differently in regards to the social consciousness.

I had a vision of my father as a young man, sporting a mullet. The memory made me laugh. Sam simply smiled when I explained.

I guess style and taste change with the times. Sam continued our discussion.

"I told you that everything must have a physical ground in order to be effective. I also described the evolution of money—the dream of humanity. I want you to consider this for a moment. If you were to commission a house to be built for you in town, what would you do?

"I guess I would have to pay a contractor to build the house. I would also have to purchase a piece of property."

Sam nodded in agreement. "We had discussed the fact that money is a dream. Your house has not been built yet. Although the house is the end result, what you pay the contractor for is their skill at trades."

I really had no idea how Sam had made his money. I was certain he was currently retired.

"What on earth does that have to do with dreaming though?" I wanted to know.

"When you pay a contractor to build you a home, the end result is the physical home which is built. You are not paying the contractor for the house, however. In the end the money which changes hands is payment for the contractor's skill as a tradesperson. That skill is mutable, flexible, and adaptable like a dream." He took in the surroundings with a familiar gesture. "My house is a stable, physical truth. It is akin to the fixed nature of waking consciousness. The skill that allowed me to build this house was my own. That skill is akin to a dream. The dream is always the foundation."

"Is that what you did for work Sam? Where you a carpenter?"

Sam nodded in agreement. I was pleased to finally know his occupation, but my attention was wandering. Sam caught my attention by clearing his throat.

"I am bringing this up in order to enlighten you in regards to the nature of existence. The world around you is very much like my skill in carpentry. The value is found in the talent and skill of each individual, which is fluid, changeable, and adaptable. Dreams are, in essence, more physical that the stable reality around you. The left side comes first; the goal is the right side. My skill comes before the physical structure of the building, though my cabin is the desired result."

With that strange assertion our talk moved on to other issues of minor importance. When my head found its final resting place on my pillow I made a mental note to remember my dreams. I would not be disappointed.

A Foreign Body

Usually when I dream it has a tendency to be a rather muddled affair. I do not know if it was my conscious decision before falling asleep or not, but my dream had a clarity which surpassed even that which I held while awake.

It was completely physical. Although it was night, the pale light of the moon lit up the landscape as clear as day. I was running through a snow covered expanse. The crisp night air was cool around me. I could feel every muscle in my body pulsing as I raced through the trees. There was no separation between myself and the pale landscape. I took simple delight in movement. My tendons contracted and relaxed in syncopated rhythm. I moved with utmost ease over the snow.

What I remember most vividly is that I had absolutely no sense of self. Along with that was the embrace of the environment. There was only the pleasure of being. To this day it remains one of the most vivid experiences of my life. There was no thought, only the simple joy of movement.

Eventually I came to a stream. My breathing was steady. I needed a drink so I lowered my head to lap the water with my tongue. Along with this act came my first thought, the shock of it accompanying the chill of the water.

'Omigod, I am a cat!'

And with that the spell was broken.

The Rule of Immediacy

I awoke with the realization that I would be spending my second to last day in Sam's company. My thoughts were about home. I would return with a business card in my pocket and a large quantity of meat.

I had left home in an emotional vacuum. I would return home a hunter.

The memory of my dream the night before was shocking in its clarity and vividness. Unlike the dream of silent knowledge, the entire experience remained clear and lucid. I considered what Sam had said about cats, awareness, and how every different creature had a unique Tonal. I would be haunted by similar dreams for the rest of my existence.

To be honest, those hauntings were more welcome than the one directed by Sam.

Breakfast came and went without issue. Sam and I retired to the living-room after cleaning up. I looked around the cabin as we talked, with the intent of fixing the scene in my memory. Sam had said on many occasions that our true mind was our environment, and I wanted to remember his.

I came to an understanding in regards to my own mind. During my time with Sam I had been subjected to a completely foreign methodology. Sam's cabin was somewhere I had never been before. I thought about what Sam had said in regards to the internal dialogue. The environment was certainly much more stable than the thoughts in my head. If Sam was right about language being the bridge between two individuals, who was I talking too?

Oddly enough Sam's next question complemented my unspoken thoughts.

"What are the first three rules of business, Al?"

I had taken a marketing class in high-school, so I knew the answer Sam was looking for.

"Location, location, location."

Sam beamed in approval.

"That rule can also be applied to sorcery. The simple rule of immediacy is crucial to a sorcerer. That which is with you physically has more relevance than that which is not. I have said that our existence is dependent on our environment. The local is a crucial part of any interaction. At the moment you are a guest in my home. You met your ex-girlfriend in a coffee shop playing your guitar for strangers. Your relationship with Sara continued along those lines. Our relationship will develop in regards to the rule of immediacy as well."

I realized that Sam had me at a bit of a disadvantage. At that moment I had no home of my own. When I returned to the city I would have to find a new place. Although the ache was gone in regards to Sara, I still found it hard to believe that I had chosen my friends and my own established identity over someone I loved dearly.

"In Hawaii they have do not have separate words for hello and good-bye. 'Aloha' covers both. That is another rule of awareness. Hello's and good-byes are the most profound moments of any relationship." I had to smile at the memory of my own introduction to Sam. "They are, in the end, the most crucial aspect of any encounter. Death is what ultimately brings meaning to an individual's life. It is one of the reasons why death is such a worthy advisor. A sorcerer is always cognizant of his surroundings. A sorcerer is also a pioneer, and his bubble of perception includes both the company he keeps and the environment. The location of an encounter will always tell a tale of its own."

"You talk about the environment as if it is alive."

"The environment is alive. Children are inherently cognizant of the fact. It is something generally lost on adults. As I have said, as human beings we have a tendency to consider ourselves separate and isolated from the world around us. That is not the reality. As a human being one generally has a home, a few pairs of shoes, and a vehicle of some sort. Those items are all part of ourselves; they are part of who we are. You must realize that your being includes far more than your physical body. Home is where your feet are. If you look at the human condition objectively you will realize that being human extends further than your reach."

Sam paused before continuing.

"If you were to ask a thousand people in Canada if they had a stove with burners with which they cook, how many people would say no?"

All I could think of was Sam's statement that he had lived as a homeless individual for two years. I could only wonder what he had gone through. I also realized that he probably ate a hot meal every now and then while living on the street.

"You are saying that I am also my stove, Sam?"

Sam grinned. "Yes, I am. You are also your shoes, your vehicle, and your fancy clothes." He let silence fall between us while I considered his odd assertion. Sam continued.

"It is why the environment is crucial. I told you that we are like apples on a tree. We each have a unique connection with the spirit. Our connection is our own physical body, but it does not end there. I briefly mentioned the blue cat philosophy. In an objective sense the local of any encounter is of utmost importance. In the subjective the blue cat holds sway. Self-awareness is found through the careful observation of others. The rule of immediacy simply states that subjectively, everything that occurs within your physical bubble of perception is about you."

Once again I looked around the cabin. If home was where ones feet are, this was my home at the moment.

"You told me that you had a friend who wound up being a diagnosed schizophrenic. His bubble would interact with those of others in the local of the hospital. I rather doubt that any psych patient wants to be institutionalized. I want you to take the setting into consideration in all your interactions, and try to see what the scene is telling you. For a schizophrenic individual the hospital is where they interact with others. It means that they are a patient. It is that very realization that can yield answers."

"But the nurse is in the psych ward as well, is she not?" I observed.

Sam smiled. "Yes she is, isn't she? She is being paid for her time, of course. The patient is being cared for. I did tell you about the creation myth of the sorcerers. We are all counselors. That includes both the patient and the nurse."

"Meaning what, precisely?"

"It means that the nurse has things to learn about mental health. An exceptional nurse realizes that simple truth and learns through those she works with. An unexceptional nurse is simply a different kind of patient. The nurse gets to go home to her family at the end of the day regardless."

I had not seen or heard from my schizophrenic friend in years. When I considered my own recent experience, I felt a little guilty. A memory surfaced about one of my few visits with the friend in question. He had been completely frustrated at the time, claiming that his mother had come to visit him and the nurse had told him to have a seat and wait for the doctor. His mother was standing right beside him at the time. She had not even looked up, and simply dismissed him out of hand. He had been very sad when he shared the tale.

I shared the tale with Sam.

"Is there any validity to mental illness, Sam?" I was thinking of some of the things I had gone through in his company. Much of it was rather unsettling.

"In all honesty there is no such thing as mental illness. That is what the nurse in that situation failed to realize. Even if his mother's visit was a delusion, it was his delusion, and should therefore be recognized. Absolutely everything one experiences in life is real. When one is completely delusional the truth of their experience is simply theirs and theirs alone. The nurse in the hospital did not take that into account in regards to your friend. Absolutely everything that one experiences has validity. A better question is how much does what one experiences weigh? In a sense we are all delusional. The delusions which are shared simply carry more weight. Who was delusional in regards to your schizophrenic friends visit with his mother, the nurse or the patient? What is offered in life is freedom of expression. One can claim to be god if one wants. It is a difficult claim to back up physically."

I considered our discussions about the 'World of Appearances.' I found myself wondering if it was possible to create your own reality.

Sam stretched broadly and yawned before continuing.

"The point of space right before your nose was present in the universe right after the big bang, at the very inception of the universe. In regards to the universe, your space was present fourteen billion years ago. It is where the concept of a sliver of eternity comes from. You were present then, and you are present now in a rarified form. Many people believe that we all worship the same god under different names. Sorcerers are not so inclined, but when the concept of god is absent, it is karma which holds sway. Sorcerers deal with an aggressive form of karma, whereas a Buddhist will focus on compassion. Adversity promotes growth, so in order to be a true friend, one must offer conflict. Karmic ties hold a great deal of weight. The mind holds very little."

My memory of my dream the night before was still very fresh in my mind.

"An animal is the product of the environment they inhabit. The principle of Karma works similarly. The location where a Karmic tie is realized is as crucial as when it is resolved. The when and the where are always crucial. I will give you an example. The majority of our talks have occurred right here, in the living room of my humble abode. This is a foreign local for you. This space has also been here since the beginning of time. The result of your being present with me is your introduction to a foreign methodology. If we were to converse elsewhere, the resulting dialogue would be different."

I could only wonder what we would talk about back home. The answer to that question would be apparent later in our relationship.

"Do you remember our walk a few days ago, Al? I was trying to explain a simple truth to you when the coyote interrupted us. A sorcerer is always present. Your entire life has led to the conversation we are presently engaged in. There is no argument to the contrary, it is a simple reality. The coyote embodied the question... 'Are you going to make it?' It is the holy clown of existence. There is a universal sadness that is elegantly contrasted by a sense of humor. You are present—of course you made it. There is a flip side to that as well. The coyote would never have misled you in the comfort of my cabin. The question was posed out there, in the wilderness that surrounds my residence. In regards to the Nagual you are not but a fledgling. To be a pioneer—to traverse the untamed wild of consciousness—you will need to apply yourself as a warrior."

Sam held my attention, his eyes liquid.

"I told you that there is an evolutionary advantage to being an herbivore. There is an endless buffet underfoot at all times. A predator is dependent on its prey. Life is an ongoing battle, which inevitably ends with one's demise. I told you that the best advice one can ever receive comes from the conscious acceptance of one's own mortality. We hold predators in high regard, and deny the wisdom of sheep. We hold victory in high esteem, and avoid loss at any cost."

Sam's eyes twinkled merrily.

"If you think your winning you haven't been. The meat in the back of the truck says you are the victor. You lost something in the exchange. The average man lives as an immortal, completely blind to both his defeats and his inevitable demise. The average man is ignorant by choice. The mantra of modern man is that the only thing I will place value on is my own victory and that which I can control. A sorcerer accepts the fact that the defeats one faces in life are as relevant as the successes. A moment of joy is as relevant as one of sorrow. In this mindset a sorcerer embraces his own totality—both the positive and the negative. Many people adopt religion, or the reason of science, in an effort to tame the untamable. They find their salvation in cold logic or the comfort of forgiveness and life eternal."

This time Sam's expression held compassion.

"I told you that a sorcerer is both a warrior and a pioneer. When involved in war one piece of advice is 'divide and conquer.' A sorcerer does not divide his experience into treasure and trash, nor do they divide existence into the spiritual and the mundane. By accepting ones totality one can explore the active side of infinity, which like any skill, is fluid and adaptive. It is similar to dreaming. In order to dream one must relinquish control."

Sam looked at me and winked. "Perhaps the best way to look at it is like this. The only goal in life is death—we are all winners."

Sam then burst out laughing. I had to admit that I really did not see the humor.

Sam's mirth subsided while I entertained thoughts of religion. I had to admit that I found the concept of god a better companion than that of death.

"I have attempted to bring to light the importance of the environment in one's life. The rule of immediacy states that what is present physically is always of utmost importance. The location in which one interacts is ultimately more important than those involved in the conversation. It is called body language of course. What is the local saying? There is also vast amount of information held in one's physical appearance."

I was curious about something he had brought up the night before.

"You said that existence is fluid beneath the surface." I had always been told not to judge a book by its cover. My mood had capsized. It was not the concept of my mortality that weighed so heavily. Maybe it was the thought that one day I would be a meal. I was haunted by religious ideals.

I suppose I needed validation for a soul. Oddly enough his next statement sufficed.

"Nature works through a continual state of anarchy. It is simply our waking agreement which lends it stability. The goal of life is ultimately to forge an identity. It is inevitable. One's identity is forged by structuring and organizing the surrounding chaos into a manageable whole. That is a function of the Tonal. Most do so through social membership, which lends stability. The environment provides stability as well. Guide yourself by the light of the stars, not by the lights of every passing ship." Sam looked at me with a lopsided smile. "You are a musician. You played live for your audience in a coffee shop. Ultimately life is a live show that responds to its participants. A sorcerer breaks his social ties and lives life in that spirit, forging a both a new agreement and an identity of his own choosing."

I was puzzled. "How can life possibly be a live show?"

Sam paused for a moment, looking over at my guitar before responding.

"Consider your question for a moment. It is always a live show. Static images are the product of technology, be it your favorite album or a photograph. Every individual who ever listens to a song contributes to the song itself. In a sense there is neither past nor future. Are you going to make it? A sorcerer is always present. Where and when feature prominently. I also told you that the totality of an individual encompasses the entirety of one's experience. That includes songs that were played before you were born, the songs you write, and songs that will be written by others long after you are dead. The world is one. Every song you choose to play is therefore a live jam."

"But you just said there is neither past nor future."

Sam grinned in response to my confusion.

"Yes I did. Unfortunately the Nagual is something which can only be experienced, not talked about. Language is an expression to the right. I am quite certain that you will experience the truth of what I am saying on your own at some point. It is your own being which will ultimately set the limits of your experience. It is something most easily explored in solitude."

He fell silent momentarily. If he was right, and reality was in fact a shared agreement which lent stability, then a different reality could only be found through someone who held a foreign agreement.

I thought about what Sam had said about hellos and goodbyes. He was correct about my meeting Sara as a result of my playing guitar. I had also gone through a great deal since winding up on Sam's doorstep. My experience validated what he was saying.

"Underneath everything is fluid." He continued. "I told you that creativity is the domain of the Nagual, it is simply expressed through the right side. Our relationships are creative endeavors in their own right. They cannot be caged and locked away." Sam paused and looked me over. "You can tell a great deal about someone by observing them physically. Their actions, their body language, and their effect on those they associate with, tell an even more intimate tale. Much like your artistic expression through your guitar, our relationships have a life of their own."

Sam had suggested that the environment was found to the left, while life was an expression to the right. The reasoning behind that, other than to emphasize the subjective nature of existence, was beyond me. When he said that our relationships had a life of their own a realization crystalized. Sam had done his best to describe the social body. He talked about it like a living thing. I guess every conversation was a live jam.

I looked around the cabin once again. I realized that I did not even have a place to stay upon my return home. I would probably wind up staying with my parents, or one of my friends, while I hunted for a place. Perhaps there was something to be learned from my hunting trip. Sam had emphasized, 'location, location, location.' I decided that while I looked for a place I would wait aggressively. My inner dialogue came to a halt at that point as I contemplated my situation. Sam said that our conversation was dependent on the scene itself.

I had just thought about hunting for a place. Perhaps that was precisely how I should proceed. I would hunt for a place that inspired me—that inspired creativity.

I was still not ready to call a park bench home.

Sam referred to the 'World of Appearances' as if we all had a world of our own. He had also said that a sorcerer was present and conscious at all times. Like water running down a hill, I could simply allow things to progress, or I could take both my life and my decisions in hand.

I liked the idea of moving forward with conscious intent. I realized that in a sense Sam's theory offered control by relinquishing it. The concept that I had to hunt for a place put my living situation in my own hands. I was also at the mercy of the places I had to choose from.

Sam broke my reverie as he continued.

"When you came out here over Christmas you were putting yourself in an unfamiliar situation. I told you that you have a penchant for jumping. Your predisposition to jump is much like your love of music, both are part of your fluid nature. Those qualities belong more to the active side of infinity than your physical appearance. Your ability adapt to completely foreign situations embodies the pioneer in all of us."

Sam sounded rather proud of me, which elicited both a smile and a denial in return.

"I feel more like a loser, Sam." The appeal was present in my tone. "Why would I run from everyone and everything I knew?"

"When we discussed ones emotional state I brought up the fact that our emotions identify their own root cause. You lost the woman you loved. Both your social body and your established identity were victorious. You drove countless miles out of town to escape those that you knew—to escape yourself. You wound up on my doorstep, and as a result you have adopted a new name. You have also been introduced to a foreign methodology."

"I know Sam, but it still does not feel right."

"It does not need to be right, it needs to be real. Truly giving in would have required taking comfort in the very thing which had caused your issues in the first place, which is those you knew intimately. Sometimes flight is necessary for survival. You are at a crossroads in your life. I told you that the social body will work towards its own ends, even at cost to the individual. Society is composed of individuals, and therefore the individual must come first. Your anger was directed at those around you. What you failed to realize is that the true issue was your own identity. You planned on spending the holidays on your own, with the intent of solving that very issue."

Sam was looking at me calmly. I was lost and forlorn at the moment, but I appreciated the company.

"I have said on a number of occasions that in regards to the Nagual there is neither gain nor loss. Victory and defeat are the domain of the Tonal. Every one of us is but a sliver of a larger whole. You are an investment, and through you I am replacing something that I have taken. Therein is our agreement, and along with that your introduction to the Nagual. You attempted to flee society. That is society's loss. Our relationship is simply a different manifestation of the social body. You will give back in a manner appropriate to your own spirit."

I considered silently for a moment. I could not avoid the impression of a face before leaving town. It was that very face from which I had fled.

"You are saying that I knew this when I left home."

"If you have a better interpretation I am willing to listen. As for myself, there is little in the way of doubt. The rules of awareness are consistent, if abstract. They are abstract because every individual is unique, and the rules of awareness therefore manifest differently for every individual. You wound up on my doorstep, after all. You realized the truth unconsciously and made an effort to resolve the issue. Your time here with me is the result"

I thought about Sara. The ache that I had felt every time I thought of her was gone. I had definitely resolved one issue.

"Why was it necessary to run away?"

"People get so tied up in saying and doing the right thing. There is no 'correct' response. If you are uncertain of a course of action, my advice is to do anything that comes to mind. Many people have a tendency to go still when confronted by something which they have no immediate answer too. It does not help at all. You did not have the knowledge to effectively deal with what you were experiencing. You decided to run instead. You witnessed the cause of your problems in the reflection of those you knew. It was in the mirror when you combed your hair. It is a reflection of the aberrant Tonal of society, which serves only itself."

What remained in regards to Sara was the vision of her complete loveliness. Even if I could not have Sara back, I was not willing to lose someone else like her if the opportunity arose.

It was not the first time the thought had surfaced, and I realized that if Sam was not offering answers, he was at least offering a direction.

I was struggling regardless. I could not see the destination, which frustrated me to no end. Then again I had not been accurate in regards to my destination upon leaving town. It had worked out just the same. I thought about what Sam had said about the importance of dreaming, and that it required relinquishing control.

It was entirely possible that I did not have to do anything. Perhaps Sam was right in regards to the relationship between freedom and responsibility. In my memory I heard the baying call of the coyote once again.

Sam had said that a sorcerer is always present on more than one occasion.

"The awareness you developed when you travelled Australia is also part of your being." He broke my reverie. "You made further progress when you started playing songs in front of strangers. The result was your introduction to your girlfriend. Your pioneering spirit also led to our own introduction as well. You are the totality of your own experience. It is possible to consciously focus on the experiences you appreciate most as you cultivate your awareness. One's social body develops in regards to how one interacts with others."

"And somehow I knew this and attempted to escape."

"It was not an attempt. You are here. The result is this conversation. Our talks are not something that will ever leave you. That is the reality of our time together. You can make of it what you will. What you do when you return home, and are in the comforting embrace of those you know? That will be your own, conscious decision."

"Why would society stand for nobody at all?"

Sam snorted.

"The right side has no meaning in and of itself. Its ultimate function is to serve and protect. Society is feeding on itself, the same way that we are consuming the natural resources of the planet. Our environment is our true wealth. Society is composed of individuals. The right side acts as a highlighter. When you highlight a highlight the result may be a brighter highlight, but it has no relevance in its own right. Tonal for Tonal's sake is empty. In regards to society the individual must come first. When society rules, there is nobody at the wheel, and the social body, which we have ourselves personified, will work to undermine those that sustain it."

"Then what is the answer, Sam? How do I regain control?"

"One must put the environment first. I told you that our true mind is found in our surroundings. You are a manifestation of that very environment, in the same way that society is composed of individuals."

"I do not really understand how to listen to the environment."

Sam offered a smile.

"There is no real trick to understanding a dog's growl. Of course you know. People choose ignorance over responsibility. Both offer freedom, though the freedom offered is a result of their choice. You said you that you feel like a loser for fleeing. You are a product of your own environment. We are all part of the universe, Al. How could you not know? When we defend ourselves we defend the universe. You simply do not like what I am saying in regards to society. It would require acting on that knowledge."

The reality of the man in front of me spoke for itself.

"Your awareness encompasses all that you have experienced. Your awareness also interacts with the awareness of others. Things that are important to you will appear in your surroundings. There is no real mystery to their meaning. The environment speaks simply and without guile. We simply choose confusion over knowledge, because that confusion allows us to act irresponsibly. Due to the fact that your mind is part of you, and you are part of the environment in turn, the conversation is never misleading. The idea that you can communicate with it is simply the starting point for the discourse."

That was the end of our conversation for the morning. At that point I was flustered and certain that Sam was talking in riddles. Years would pass before I realized that there were no riddles. I would realize that the world spoke quite simply, and without subterfuge.

It was only then that I truly considered myself a sorcerer.

Purpose

Sam once again enlisted my aid chopping wood. After donning my coat and boots I was more than happy to leave both Sam and the cabin behind for a spell.

There were many times during our talks that I wound up feeling a little drained. At first I believed it was simply due to the fact that I was adjusting to a completely foreign perspective. The work with the axe had quite the opposite effect. I found it invigorating. As I worked I considered what he had said about energy. If he was right, my energy was expended maintaining my identity, and as a result, my social standing.

I wondered where my energy was going in regards to my relationship with Sam.

When I split a healthy pile of wood I found myself in an odd mood. For some reason I found myself irritated with Sam. I was not ready to head inside. I left the axe in a round of wood and decided to go for a walk.

Sam had said that our instinct was that of a pioneering spirit. I decided I would take that to heart and explore on my own.

I set out on a narrow trail I had noticed during one of my outings in Sam's company. I really did not know where it led, but that mattered little. My irritation with Sam puzzled me, as in this case there was no identifiable cause.

I came to the realization that I was torn. I appreciated his insight, but at the same time I was not willing to accept his point of view. The ramifications of what he was saying were costly. I tried to pass him off as an old eccentric, but that was due more to the weight of my mood than that of his argument.

There was something else bothering me as well. Tomorrow night I would have to pack my things. The next day I would be on the road. I told myself it would be a fresh start, but I could not shake the feeling that my life would be a re-run.

It was not that I was unhappy with my life. Although that familiar ache in regards to Sara was no longer present, it was still the breakup that bothered me. What I found unacceptable was my own behavior. I was not willing to allow that to happen again.

Sam was back at home. I did my best to leave both him and his argument there for the moment.

The mornings silence was unbroken. If my mood was heavy, the silence of the surroundings weighed as much or more. As I walked the trail the discord in my own being gradually dissipated.

When my internal dialogue subsided I felt strangely liberated. Soon there was only the noise of my boots in the snow.

Sam said that it was possible to wait aggressively. I could only wonder if there was such a thing as aggressive tranquility

The calm that settled over me was profound, and as a result I refrained from heading back for a while. I took a seat with my back to a tree and closed my eyes, courting a vague memory. It was a memory of a different season.

In my mind's eye I saw the field I had visited in my dream. For a moment my back was against the monolith in Sam's painting. That sense of completion was present once again. I remained seated until the chill of the snow chased away the memory of sunshine.

I rose and headed back the way I had come. As I approached the cabin my mental chatter started up again. I found it rather irritating. In a detached manner I recognized it was the same irritation I had experienced in regards to Sam upon leaving the cabin.

Sam was right about one thing. My control over my mind was tenuous at best. As I walked I considered what Sam had said about the body. If both my body and the surroundings were my true mind, why was I unable to maintain the fleeting peace I had just experienced?

I was rather certain I knew why Sam had chosen to live far from the city. It was the silence that I just experienced that he courted. As the cabin came into view I wondered briefly if he found my company an intrusion. I wondered if he truly had as much control over own his mind as he did his body.

I wondered if I ever would.

I walked up the steps and went inside, taking off my coat and boots. Sam seemed to gauge my mood but said nothing. I saw that Sam had brewed a pot of tea and helped myself.

"Well you were gone for quite a while. What took you so long?"

I added some milk and sugar to my tea, and then went to join Sam in the living room.

"I decided to go for a walk."

I took my seat and a sip before asking my question.

"Why did you decide to share this with me, Sam?"

"I do not own the surroundings. Why did I decide to share what with you?"

His question made think about my own.

"The knowledge you have offered, I guess."

Sam chuckled quietly.

"At the moment you are my companion. I told you that in regards to the Nagual, nothing can be added or subtracted. I removed myself from society, and that leaves me in arrears in regards to my humanity. You are the means with which I repay a debt. I am a solitary creature by nature. I told you that in nature nothing is wasted. In life we give and take. Complete isolation is an illusion. If one does not accept that one must give from time to time, something is inevitably taken. It is simply a matter of mechanics."

"How am I the means repay a debt?" I wondered.

He seemed surprised by my question.

"You are who you are. The social body that you and I have developed will interact with those of which you associate with when you get home. That is my investment."

"But how do you know what the result will be?" I wanted to know.

Sam was silent for a while before responding.

"One never knows the specifics. You answered my call and showed up on my doorstep. A sorcerer is impeccable by nature. If I was not impeccable, and my call was not true, then the result of our interaction would be faulty as well."

Sam broke into a broad grin. "But that is not the case."

I could only think that what he was talking about was related to faith in some way.

"I told you that a sorcerer believes in as little as possible. Why would I be wrong? I also told you before the sweat that the only thing one truly has is the ability to shape ones awareness any way they see fit. Even our awareness is relinquished in the end. Our lives are on loan, and as such it is a debt that must be repaid, though the manner in which that occurs is a personal choice. A sorcerer does so by adding to the mystery. That is what I am doing with you."

"Do you think I will be successful?"

I was feeling a little dejected. Sam looked me over and laughed.

"Will you be successful at what, Al?"

"Will I add to the mystery?"

"I believe that is inevitable. You are courting the mind once again." He took in the cabin with a wave. "In some ways the monkeys have the better of us. There is no 'why' here, there is only experience to be gained."

Unfortunately my mind was already on the way home.

"Let's talk hockey for a moment. Who is your favorite team?"

"The Vancouver Canucks."

"And you follow them regularly?"

"Yes of course."

"How did they do in the playoffs last year?"

I remembered that rather well. I had been more than a little disappointed.

"They lost in the second round."

"When they lost, did you lose?"

I thought about that for a moment before responding. I could recall the disappointment vividly. It was more than that though.

I felt like I had lost.

"I noticed you have a Canadian flag tattooed on your shoulder." He waved an imaginary flag from his seat. "You are a proud Canadian I take it?"

I was a slightly offended. "Aren't you?"

"I suppose. I simply want to know if Canada's victories are your own."

"Well yes, I guess they are."

"Then it goes without saying that the countries losses are your own as well."

"What is your point, Sam?"

He looked up, his eyes meeting mine. "You asked me about purpose. I cannot offer you an answer, your purpose is a product of your identity. At the moment you are 'Al.' I suppose the real question is who are you?"

I felt a moment of confusion in regards to my name. Sam was asking me a valid question. Was I truly 'Al?' I felt a desire to laugh. Sam decided to offer some assistance.

"We have just established that you are a Vancouver Canucks fan and a proud Canadian. When they win you win. I simply would like to know if you play for either of those teams." His tone was honeyed.

I was still at a loss. Obviously I did not play for Vancouver, but I was a Canadian citizen. For some reason I did not like where this was going.

"An American president once stated, 'My fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you, ask what you can do for your country.' My fellow Americans is the point lost in modern society. In American politics it is the Republicans versus the Democrats. The notion that they are a country which includes all its citizens is has been lost completely. The government is broken as a result."

I considered what Sam had said about the social body, and that he was contributing in his own way through me. I was also frustrated with my inability to answer the question in regards to my own identity.

That would come in time.

"You asked me if you were going to be successful. How can I possibly answer that? In order to be successful you must first identify who you are and what you want. Your success or failure is a result of your own identity, but that identity is ultimately of your own choosing. Your introduction to the Nagual will assist you in the end. Will you be successful? Will Vancouver win this year? You need to decide who you are first, and then prove yourself through your own acts. In the end it is completely up to you."

Sam caught my eye and raised an eyebrow.

"I brought up the little pile of sand that ants build around their nests to mark the entrance. That sand marks the location as the ants own. The goal of the universe is self-awareness; the understanding of what belongs to whom. I told you the environment is our true mind. In order to establish an identity for yourself, you must first claim a plot of land as your own. One can fashion it anyway one desire's. I am a Canadian, but our government does many things that I do not agree with. My surroundings are of my own choosing. In the end, they always are." He took them in with a wave of his hand, then looked at me and wrinkled his nose. "Most of them anyway."

I had to laugh at his expression. His tone softened.

"You asked me about purpose. On one occasion I told you that we have replaced our priests clad in black with doctors clad in white. The unfortunate fact of life is that we need our witches, our demons, and our germs. We require the assistance of the devil because in our hearts, it is our desire to work through our issues. I told you about the studies done about the generosity of infants. That is the true human spirit. It is something that is inevitably lost when ones social membership develops. Then our lives become a ceaseless battle for what is 'ours.'"

I had to ask.

"Do you believe in God and the Devil, Sam?"

Sam sighed. "I told you that there is meaning and the meaning-less. They say God is in the details. They say that in regards to the Devil as well. If everything has meaning then everything is meaningless. I suppose that's where my belief in God and the Devil fits in. It is why the subjective nature of the 'World of Appearances' is necessary. Ultimately we provide our own meaning, and in the end our success or failure is a result of our own identity. Every life is a sliver of eternity, and as such part of the whole, so who on earth do we worship? We would be worshiping ourselves, which is, in the end, a completely pointless affair."

Sam caught my eye with a smile. "Which language is the correct language, Al?"

Once again, I had absolutely no idea how to respond. Sam simply burst out laughing in response to my confusion.

"It is as ridiculous as asking which religion is the correct religion. Language is easy. We feel comfortable with those who agree with us—those who speak our language. Religion, as far as I can tell, is far more confusing. The result is that people are generally a little insecure about their beliefs."

I had to laugh as well.

"I will simply say this. The universe is here to be experienced. Some people turn to religion for purpose; others build a home and care for a family. I told you that the right side is the seat of language, and that language is the bridge between two people. Perhaps your unique expression is nothing more than a bridge between yourself and the divine. You must understand that we learn through our environment; through action, not discourse. We need people with which to communicate, and as game we all need an environment in which to hunt. You must prove yourself. Ultimately that is done through the environment. Someone can claim that they do not have a problem with alcohol, but until they wake in the morning with a few beer in the fridge, they have no valid claim."

Sam looked at a mirror on the wall with a sigh.

"The dream of humanity is one of wealth, and due to the fact that I am human, it is my dream as well. It is something I aspire too. People who have an operating link with the spirit know exactly who they are. In that case one does not need a mirror, other than those around them. Our awareness is a result of life itself. Many people die long before they meet a physical end. The universe actively responds to those who have the capacity to listen. One must also temper one's personal expression with--And Yet-.'

He lowered his voice.

"Most people live and die without the conscious knowledge that they are missing something crucial. Most live lives that amount to nothing more than the validation of the social body. Isn't it strange that was is generally missing is other people. The mirror of the social body is others of the same inclination. When one focuses on a mirror they see nothing else. The other thing which is missing is the Nagual. People try to replace what is missing through others, but in regards to society, it is generally one's own reflection that is recognized. The inner world is the domain of the Nagual, and it is as vast and varied as that which we find out there." He pointed out the window. "I told you that every species has a dream. Every species also has a weakness. For humanity that weakness is the reflection of a crown. We are the spiritual beggars of the universe. It is not that humanity understands divinity, it is that it is divorced from it. The spirit was with you on your walk, Al. It will be with you when you return home. Nietzsche once said, "When you stare into the abyss the abyss stares back at you."

He offered a smile.

"If I had one goal with you—if I had a purpose in regards to you—it was to introduce you to the Nagual. The Nagual is present in your inner landscape, and you will find it through inner silence. You have witnessed it through your verbal exploration of my little tree, and been recognized in return."

For some reason I found myself smiling in response to the weighty argument. I decided to break the mood.

"So I can take the tree home with me?"

"Ah, a smartass. I am certain you could find one of your own."

We shared a laugh.

"If you are looking for purpose in life I am afraid I cannot supply it for you. You can consider it the curse of the Nagual, if you want. Life is what you make it. Your purpose is, and always will be, your own. The Nagual offers freedom without reward. You can participate in a sporting event and win yourself a trophy. You can choose any playing field you want to claim victory, but in the end that is a product of the right side."

He reached into his pocket and fished out a rather ugly wallet. He then stared into it in apparent dismay.

"Unfortunately I am broke. You have seen the Nagual with the totality of your being, so both you and I have more than most."

Always the performer.

"I took one look at you, wet and bedraggled on my doorstep, and realized you needed a break. So I called you Al, it was the best I could offer."

He leaned closer and lowered his voice.

"As I said, I can offer you no purpose." He looked slightly nervous, as if sharing some dark secret. "I can tell you the purpose of the universe if you want." I was intrigued and leaned forward in response. "It is simply here to give you a rough time."

I sat up while feeling let down. He looked over my body, his eyes returning to mine. I was waiting for the punch line.

"Oddly enough, you always interpret my humor as seriousness and my seriousness as humor."

He leaned back on in his chair leaving me hanging. I had to laugh in response.

"Of course it is." Sam was unmoved by my sarcasm.

"One of the few constants in life is adversity. A constant pressure is exerted on all life. Yes, it is here for no reason other than to give us a rough time. The inevitable result is death."

I was surprised. I had been expecting something a punch line. It was not the concept of death that I found difficult, but that something out there wished me harm.

"Alright. Why on earth would it do that?"

"Adversity has the effect of stimulating growth. Complacency promotes stagnation. If you ever meet someone with soul challenge them. Inherent in life is movement. A flower must struggle to find the sun or perish. A child playing in the sandbox is content until the child see's someone else on a swing-set. There is never a point where it is said, 'enough is enough.'"

He paused and let me digest this for a moment.

"Adversity is a constant, and always present in the physical reality of existence. The universe wants to learn and grow. Intelligent design is a reality, but intelligence depends on the ability to adapt, to evolve, and to adjust itself according to present circumstances. One can gain experience through life, and in regards to the universe, there is no right or wrong. A moment of pain is as relevant as a moment of joy."

He looked me over once again.

"When you return home, embrace your spirit and observe without judgment. Whether you are that flower struggling for a place in the sun, or a child fighting for the rights to a swing, adversity is always present."

His eyes held a challenge.

"A sorcerer experiences this for himself and comes to this simple realization. In order to continue one must be a warrior. Those who are blind to it are tested, although they are generally protected by the Tonal, and along with it, that they are unaware. Those who know are either broken by the apparent cruelty, or they become warriors. The choice is yours."

I thought about the feeling that something was waiting while I walked down the highway after my accident. I also realized that what Sam was offering was an invitation. I thought about Sam's business card, safe in my own wallet.

"When an individual embraces that realization they become a warrior. In a sense one must submit to the reality of existence, and the reality is that it is always a fight. In regards to that conflict, one must submit. We discussed the time I spent during my youth in the chicken coop. Those chickens fought for their social standing while waiting in life for the slaughter. You asked me once if I liked living out here all alone." He smiled softly. "I am willing to say that I am enjoying your company. The folly of humanity is no different than that of the chickens. The goal for the average man is to be on top, and to have those weaker below him, differing to his wishes."

He chuckled quietly.

"A sorcerer cultivates worthy opponents. For the most part the game does more for those below than it does for those on top. A warrior goes out of his way to cultivate strong opponents, and embraces adversity in that fashion—even if it comes at a price. In that spirit one grows, and as a result, so do the rest. This is contrary to complacency, which surrounds itself with weakness, and rules from above."

He lowered his voice a bit as he continued.

"If it makes you feel any better we were all warriors at one point. In a sense, a sorcerer simply returns to that original spirit."

I was rather surprised.

"When was I a warrior, Sam?"

"When you first began exploring existence, of course. It is something which must be realized in order to continue. The ultimate warrior is a child. In the beginning there is absolutely no fear. That is learned. A child struggles to learn a language, to crawl and then to walk, to learn and grow. They also have a tendency to cry rather frequently and poop their pants."

He winked. "A warrior should never be afraid, not even of tears."

I was torn between the appeal of being a warrior and the danger that was present in that very acceptance. I felt a moment of self-pity, and tried to shrug it off to the best of my ability.

"A child is also a pioneer." Sam continued. "Having spent nine months in the womb they are ejected into the world. Every experience—every moment of need; of pain or sorrow—is new for a child of any species. When I talk about pioneering, please remember that I am not talking about going somewhere nobody else has gone. I am talking about going someplace that you have never been yourself. The result of a pioneering spirit is that the veil of the 'World of Appearances' slips little by little. Your horizon expands step by step."

I considered my life as it had been before I met Sam. I could recall little of my experiences as a child. I commented on this.

"Of course you do not remember. As a child you were a participant in a totally different reality. I told you that I would write you a new ticket. If you look back at your life you will realize that your memory begins around the same time as your linguistic skills. Your memories begin with your social body. When I say you are a card carrying member of society, I mean exactly that. That is the world you have participated in ever since. It need not be the case. It is also why inner silence should be cultivated."

His talk of other realities was interesting. I considered my dream of silent knowledge once again. I found myself with another question.

"You talk about social membership, Sam. What happens when someone gets older?"

"One generally shrinks." Sam snorted. "Our essence, which is a refinement of the universe at large, is honed even finer through the trial of life itself. I told you that the true motive of the universe is self-awareness. It wants to get to know you. During our first few sessions also I told you that a sorcerer is the midwife of mystery. In my travels I most certainly learn, but the result of that learning is that the world I participate in grows. The average man lives in an ever shrinking circle of repetition and routine. You inevitably decide—I like this, but I most certainly do not like that."

I thought about my job and the endless mailboxes.

"You seem to be saying that it can be avoided."

"Of course it can be avoided! It is avoided by realizing that you are a sliver of eternity, part of something much larger, which includes those terrible creatures which are no different than you yourself. They are slivers like you." He looked at me speculatively. "Your confusion is probably in response to the issue of self-awareness. That is where the Nagual comes in. You are part of the universe as a whole. It already knows you. An intimate relationship with everyone else is not required, they have their own with the very same thing that has an intimate relationship with you. It is why the mirror is such an issue. Unfortunately, the way out is through. What is offered is freedom. It is something everyone has, though few realize. I have attempted to explain to you that one of mankind's gifts is creativity. The pioneering spirit is another gift. It goes hand in hand with creativity. Any time one puts a paintbrush to a canvas, or a pen to paper, they are breaking fresh ground."

He looked from me to my guitar.

"If you do nothing else you should spend time with your guitar. I told you that the universe has a great appreciation for art. You are quite talented."

I flushed at the approval. In a sorry attempt to divert his attention I picked my guitar up. I have always loved how it felt in my hands.

As I held my guitar I realized that Sam's theory was related to a frustration I had with some of my favorite bands. So many of those that I had loved put out a few good albums, and then fell into mediocrity. I looked up from my guitar to find Sam observing me quietly.

I commented on my observation in regards to music.

"I told you that the pressure of adversity is constant. If you want to be a true friend to someone you know, offer them conflict. If they stick around they are worth your time. When you turned to your established identity as a security blanket, you turned to the complacency of an established identity." That comment stung more than I can say, whether I had dealt with the issue or not. "The difference between a warrior and an aspiring artist is that a warrior knows it is a fight in which the only outcome is death. An aspiring artist goes to work in order to make a name for themselves, and thinking that they have accomplished that when they become famous, their work suffers."

Sam raised an eyebrow. He seemed to expect something in the way of a response. I had nothing to offer.

"It is perfectly fine not to know how to respond. When you showed up at my door you were an immortal. Now you are a young hunter who will die and be eaten. Consider the meat in the back of your truck. That is how that buck decided to face its end. Should you get more credit for being the one who pulled the trigger, or should you do that buck justice by being the best that you can be. The only thing you will ever own is the capacity to shape your experience any way you see fit."

In my confusion I felt that dark part of me laughing. The nervous, jittery part was as terrified as I was during my haunting Christmas day.

Some other, unknown part of me had the right response.

"It's a good day to die." Was my response.

"Every day is." We sat for a moment in companionable silence. The nervous part of me fell quiet for some reason. Perhaps it was due to nothing more than the fact that it did not have an inevitable death-day.

Who would blow out the candles?

"Every living creature on the planet will die, someday. You are by no means special. In that sense we are all winners. An artist usually reaches a point where they tell themselves they made it. The audience also plays a role through their idolization. Adversity does not discriminate between winners and losers, nor does it recognize success or failure. Those concepts are human concerns. In the larger scheme of things they do not exist."

I found his observations at odds with what I knew. If there was no failure, why did I have doubt as a constant companion? I considered Sam's comment that we were always doing it wrong. What if it was not possible to get it right? If that was true, then there was no wrong either.

I suppose that's where the concept of freedom fit in.

I came to a revelation. If what he was saying about the body and mind was correct, they were both within my sphere of control. Other people were not. I could always choose what shirt to wear, could I not? It was the approval or disapproval in another's eyes that inspired doubt.

His question haunted me. Who was I?

"Go ahead," Sam coaxed me into movement, "play something."

I did as he asked. My voice and that of the guitar filled the cabin for a while. My voice and the guitar were extensions of my body. When I finished I looked up to see Sam watching avidly.

It was not disapproval I saw in his eyes.

When I got back home I resolved I would put my newfound status as single to good use—I would express myself creatively.

A True Friend

The evening found us outside on the porch, though on this occasion we were enjoying the quiet of the evening rather than suffering one of Sam's demonstrations. The evening was cool, touched with the promise of warmth to follow.

Tomorrow would be my last day with Sam.

"You asked me about my purpose earlier, Al."

When I left the next day, I realized that 'Al' would be no more. I found myself missing the guy already.

I realized that it was a very strange thought.

"I still do not truly understand what you are trying to accomplish, Sam."

I took a sip of my tea, whose warmth was welcome even in the mild weather.

"Sorcery is an abstract science. The right side functions on the principle of agreement. When I took my leave of society and quieted my inner voice, I took something from the folly. I claim to have summoned you, though the nature of each person who answers that call is abstract until the point when they arrive on my doorstep. You are the means through which I give back."

"And you think that I will somehow accomplish your goal." Once again, I sounded petulant. I was both deeply suspicious and a little flattered at the same time. Sam simply looked at me with a puzzled expression.

"You do not have to do anything. The right side operates through agreement. Our physical bodies are manifestations of the Tonal. In essence you and I agree. I am not concerned about the outcome, and I will not restrict your freedom of choice by providing either a goal or a plan. I told you that everything you experience in life is a result of that which comes before. I am now a part of your totality. You are completely free to do whatever you want. Your time is all that I require."

I still felt responsible for some reason. I had done nothing other than offer my companionship, which made the concept of responsibility a strange one.

"When you knocked on my door I expressed my dissatisfaction with salesmen. Salesmen are all you know, which leaves you at a loss in regards to both yourself and my own motivation. Everybody knows. I simply want your company, free from the shackles of identity for the time being."

"I can only thank you for taking me in." I meant it, sad as it seemed. During our first real discussion I had attempted to sell the fact that my relationship had failed through no fault of my own.

It had, in fact, been my relationship. Sam had said that there are two people in and one relationship. It is only ever one relationship. The attempt to figure out who was to blame was erroneous by nature. That was a simple fact I could accept.

"All of this is present with or without ones ownership." He took in the surroundings with a familiar gesture. "We have a tendency to believe that ownership is the reality. The loaf of bread between us the other day existed despite your being unaware. I hold the dead to this property, but what did I buy other than a piece of paper with my signature on it? Fishermen troll the ocean for fish to sell, and the result is less fish. People who work in forestry cut down trees that took decades to grow, and our environment is diminished ever further. Every moment of every day another baby is born, a baby that will require food to eat and timber for a home it will reside in. I have told you that wealth is the dream of humanity. The end result of that very dream is that we have less and less. In order to create wealth one must consume resources. That means that our net worth diminishes, though our bank account might go in quiet another direction. Gain and loss are present to the right. One cannot add or subtract from eternity."

Sam looked over and caught my eye.

"I have attempted to explain to you that a sorcerer is forever present—in the moment. That is the reality of my situation. Some people accept the promise of heaven, others seek enlightenment, or esteem in the eyes of others. I am. There is no plan, other than myself. That is not an arrogant statement. You are the plan as well. I cannot tell you how to be yourself. That is something you must figure out. We are all slivers of eternity. We are all part of the universe. When you defend yourself you defend the universe."

I am certain my furrowed brow conveyed a lack of understanding.

"When I defend myself from what, Sam?"

In response Sam burst out laughing. I must admit I felt a little self-conscious.

"From me for one. I told you that a true friend will offer conflict."

For some reason the part of my mind which seemed to have a fascination with white rabbits imagined itself clubbing Sam over the head with a vacuum cleaner.

"Your entire existence has been not but preparation for the conversation we are currently having. You are the voice of your own inner landscape, and as that voice, you have something to say. Language is the bridge between two individuals, and as language is an agreement, it is found to the right of the body. We also refer to the manner in which one carries themselves as body language. The right side operates in accordance with one's agreement, so you must have agreed to be who you are. If you are not responsible for your actions, then someone else is. I have said that there is a correlation between freedom and responsibility. Why would you give that away? I can offer neither heaven nor enlightenment. What I can offer is my companionship."

"Well I am not complaining..." I trailed off when I came to the realization that my own company was freely offered as well. I had accomplished the goal that led me to leave town, and I was returning with spoils of my hunt.

I was wealthier than I had been on my way out.

"Your purpose is ultimately contained in your very being. You cannot help but express it. Religious people talk a great deal about faith and the presence of a soul. You can call it what you want, the reality is present despite the semantics. Whether you are a good person or a bad person, you are who you are. It is your own agreement. That being the case, what is there to fear or doubt? For the most part people fear others seeing who they truly are. I have no such fear. That is a truth which is present for anyone who can accept who they are."

I considered my introduction to the Nagual. I was about to comment on the fact that he lived removed from society, but what emerged from my mouth was something I could not have foreseen.

"You're attempting to introduce me to myself?" I was surprised by my own insight.

He reached over and patted my knee with a smile. "It is not something which you can accomplish by looking in a mirror. The eyes are present to witness others. The ears are there to hear both yourself and others. Have you ever listened to yourself on an answering machine?" Sam grinned. "Therein one finds self-awareness—through the simple act of observation and listening. In the end it is always someone else who handles the introductions."

I found I had no argument to the contrary.

"Yes, that is precisely what I am attempting to accomplish." Sam continued. "That being the case, you are who you are, and you always will be. That is the sorcerer's faith. You cannot see yourself. It is why you require me for the introduction. That is the key to existence. Allow me to ask you once again. How do you move your finger?"

Sam looked at me quizzically. He raised his index finger and curled it to complement his question. I was stumped.

"How do I move my finger?" My confusion was evident for the second time. I found I had no appropriate response. The fact that I had absolutely no answer to such a simple question was baffling.

"I really have no idea, Sam." He grinned broadly in response to my expression.

"Faith is crucial to existence, Al. You are a sliver of eternity. That being the case, faith will never move your finger. You, on the other hand, can move your finger whenever you want. The wheel of your car is in your own hands, and for some reason you decided to drive into a ditch. Here you are. Both you and your faith in yourself are necessary in order to function. You are the plan. Despite that fact, you need both hands on the wheel of your vehicle, your eyes are required to choose a direction, and even then, you might not make it to your destination."

I thought about the animal which caused me to go off the road. I considered for a moment what Sam had said about the universe being composed of two contradictory statements that were both nevertheless true.

"To go back to your question about the introduction, I have already introduced you to the Nagual. That is one aspect of your very own being. Your established social body has simply been a blindfold up to this point. It has been a blindfold in front of a mirror, the mirror being those you know. Your instinct was to run; to jump if you will. At the moment I want you to realize one simple truth—you are. Your body is the plan, not some promise of heaven or wealth, enlightenment or damnation."

The tea was still warm. For some reason my emotional state was pleasant as well. I still had no idea what the plan was, but I realized that I was free to move it whenever I found it necessary.

"I told you that existence is simply here to give us a rough time. That is true, though the playing field upon which the battle is fought is always up to the individual in question. You can relate it to your interest in hockey, if you so desire. You have chosen to be a hockey player, and as a result it is your skill on the ice that is tested. I have chosen to do my best to be self-sufficient, the result of which I am forced to live off the land to the best of my ability. The environment itself is my chosen playing field."

I had always enjoyed playing hockey and being active physically, but I realized that my true joy was found in playing the guitar. If Sam was correct, everything that occurred in our lives was simply a result of that which held ones attention prior to the moment in question. I could only wonder what would happened if I focused myself in regards to my art.

Sam's next comment addressed that very thought.

"There are countless modes of expression in the universe. If I were to offer advice to a child growing up, I would suggest being active in as many locals as possible in order to find the right fit. When an individual finds the ground that complements them, their work is exceptional. If you were to operate in a mode that was not beneficial, the opposite holds true. Some people are good with numbers. Others find that they excel with a paintbrush. Ultimately the environment tells the tale."

Perhaps he was right; perhaps truth was irrelevant. I could only wonder if my freedom to choose weighed more than reason.

"What do you mean by a mode that is beneficial, Sam? I get the feeling that you are not talking about hockey, or even playing an instrument for that matter."

"No, I am not. You enjoy playing your guitar. Are you a country singer or a gospel singer? Do you play rock and roll or do you play the blues? As for myself I am a sorcerer. Awareness is my concern. Awareness is forged through the spirit, life, and the various energetic expressions that engender awareness. As a sorcerer I choose energetic expressions that suit my own nature."

"What do you mean by energetic expressions, Sam?"

Sam looked at me seriously for a moment.

"When the vocal center is inhabited by one energetic expression, a high child-like voice is expressed. When one courts a different energetic expression, a deep baritone is the result. There are many energetic centers found in the physical body."

When I was back home I would have to opportunity to observe others voices at my leisure.

"The focus of sorcery is awareness, Al. What one is aware of in life relates directly to various energetic expressions. When a sorcerer views the energetic nature of an individual, they see something that looks like a patchwork quilt. People resemble a raggedy-Anne doll. Each one of those patches embodies a certain energetic expression. The inner realm is the domain of the Nagual, the outer realm that of the Tonal. You are too new to the methodology to get overly involved in this topic at the moment. I simply wanted to broach the subject."

Sam cleared throat before continuing.

"For instance, the specific form of energy that I am utilizing now creates a very different voice than the one I use normally."

Sam's voice had changed. His body language became more aggressive, and for some reason I was afraid. It was a far cry from the man I had come to know. It was also far removed from the weak, wavering voice of the senile old man who presented himself during our first meeting.

"At the moment I would simply like you to focus on the physical reality of existence." Sam's voice had returned to normal. "That is where everything is expressed. I told you that creativity is expressed through the right side, though the creative impulse itself is found to the left. Most people work in a very backward fashion. They think that energy is the spiritual realm, and thus more relevant than their own physical being. The truth is quite the opposite. Even something as simple as one's posture can channel energy. You are more physical by nature, so physicality should be your focus."

I had loved watching a program called the Dog Whisperer on television. One episode in particular caught my attention. Cesar Millan was sitting on the porch with one dog, while another dog relaxed on the pavement below. The dog whisperer must have been feeling rather playful, because he asked the audience to watch and lifted the ears of the dog sitting on the porch. The other dog became aggressive, and started barking loudly.

Cesar looked rather sheepish afterwards. He explained that raised ears on a dog were an aggressive posture, which the other dog reacted too, even though the animal in question was in no way aggressive itself. In the end I guess the aggression meant little. There was something else about the show that meant a great deal to me. He talked a great deal about energy, and that it was important to project confidence. I commented on this to Sam.

"That is an excellent example. Physicality takes precedence. That is where the rule of immediacy comes into play. The same goes for dogs as well. The other dog reacted to an aggressive expression. Right sides operate through agreement, and ultimately a dog is a god. Our physical bodies channel energy every moment of our lives. It is what sorcerers call 'the spirit.' Like the dog you are describing in the television show, what is expressed is usually a result of how one carries oneself."

I liked to think that I carried myself well. Perhaps that was not for me to decide.

"All I really need to know is what you want out of our time together." To be completely honest I was at his mercy. I had only known the man for a week, and I could honestly say that it was one of my more profound relationships.

"I have attempted to explain my goal to the best of my ability. I simply want you to be yourself. The strange thing in life is that such a simple truth can be so difficult to realize. In a sense every sorcerer is an anarchist at heart. I have attempted to explain that the mind of a sorcerer is ones environment. The environment is always in a state of anarchy. The Tonal organizes the apparent chaos into a manageable whole. The order one experiences is a result of the voice in question. When you arrived at my doorstep, you were the embodiment of that very state of anarchism. Our time together is the result."

"I do not regret our time together at all, Sam."

"I am very glad to hear that. I simply want you to realize that you are your own purpose. I suggest that when you get home you court self-awareness through the diligent observation of others. Your own voice is the result of that very purpose. When you speak, you speak that truth. You are not yet thirty years old, and your life encompasses a great deal of experience. The words that emerge from your mouth are a minute fraction of that experience. The left side comes first, the right is the goal. I suggest you speak the truth, although in reality, when we speak we lie."

"What do you mean, Sam?"

"I told you that throughout the course of our relationship I have been conversing with your body. One learns through direct experience, not through conversation or the written word. How can one convey the exact nature of their own experience? We are always doing it wrong. Some people are simply better at it than others. Whether you are a good person or a bad person, a saint or a sinner, you are and always will be yourself. The vast majority of the problems that are realized in life are the result of self-doubt and fear. There is nothing to fear. My only purpose during our time together was to introduce you to your own voice. At some point my own purpose may be realized through your own."

I looked at my host for a moment, once again remembering how he had appeared to me when I first knocked on the door. He had been several decades older, senile, and decrepit. The man I was now talking to embodied nothing but casual strength.

All I could think was that if I was as healthy at his age I would be doing very well indeed. I felt a moment of despair and my shoulders slumped. Tomorrow would be my last day with Sam. I found myself not wanting to leave.

Whether Sam took a queue from my body language or something else, I really do not know. He rose, and gathered our empty tea-cups. Sam informed me that we were going for a walk. During this outing he was as silent as I had been when I ventured forth on my own. Sam was beside me the whole time, and this time I felt no irritation, only a feeling of melancholy. I considered our walk the evening the coyote had called.

Maybe I would make it after all.

Eventually we made our way home. My feeling of melancholy was dispelled when we walked back inside, as if the warmth of the cabin had exorcised it.

The rest of the evening was pleasant if uneventful.

9

Identity

Freedom within Four Walls

That morning began like any other, though the shadow of my imminent return was as persistent a companion as my inevitable demise. Tomorrow would come if the sun did in fact rise to start another day, and Al would be no more.

I suppose death comes for us all.

That morning I decided to devote myself to gleaning as much knowledge as possible about my hosts past. He had never been overly forthcoming with personal information, and deflected most of my queries with an elegance that belied his age. Inevitably, I would find the conversation turn back to own experience. I would find my-self sharing quite happily until I realized I was failing at my goal.

He was as skilled a conversationalist as anyone I had ever met.

The morning's talk was bereft of sorcery. I really did not mind, despite the fact that I had succeeded in learning little. I had noted on a number of occasions that his talks often had a draining effect. Since Sam had brought up the topic of the internal dialogue I was very conscious of its presence. There were times that a discussion with Sam reminded me of how I felt when I could not stem the flow of my own internal dialogue.

It was not until after lunch that we returned to the topic of sorcery.

"I have done my best to explain the importance of choosing ones ground. The game is inevitable, though the specifics of the playing field are of one's own choosing. I have also told you that adversity is a constant throughout life. A sorcerer is a warrior who has accepted the reality of his or her situation and embraced it. In order to do so, one must choose the battlefield. For the majority it is society and how one relates to their fellow man. If that is the case, your position in life is allocated by your peers."

I could only think about what he had said about the owner of a hockey league. The owner could not care less about who was victorious; his only concern was that as many people were involved in the game as possible. I loved playing hockey. Was it possible that the fans were also participants in some fashion? It would be a question that would plague me for years.

Maybe society operated in a similar fashion. Once again, our conversation mirrored the thoughts in question.

"Due to the position of a sorcerer, it becomes necessary to remove one-self from social constructs. The goal of society becomes something that cannot be maintained. It simply cannot exist alongside the sorcerer's perspective."

"But why not, Sam?"

"In order to work as a member of society you must accept their value system. During your time with me I have attempted to introduce you to a very different concept of wealth. The values of society and those of a sorcerer are conflicting ideals. It need not be a vicious conflict. It can be as entertaining as a sexual conquest."

Sam winked at me which made me uncomfortable. I had never participated in games like that now, had I?

"Adversity promotes growth on either side. The dream of humanity is one of wealth and value. One example is simply status, which is yet another form of wealth. In the end all one has is awareness. As citizens we advocate equality, which is a reality, but one which we apply erroneously. A man will never give birth. Men are generally stronger. The awareness of a doctor, on the other hand, and that of a homeless man, is of equal value. Sorcerers, with this in mind, place their value on something outside social ideals. It is necessary because the wealth of society is its own members. I call you a sliver of eternity, Al. In order to embrace that reality one must be in cognizant of one's own totality. Therein one realizes the Nagual. There is no room within social ideals for one's totality, for some aspects of an individual are considered inappropriate. The individual is viewed as a threat. I cannot place another creature above myself, nor can I place one below. That mentality simply cannot function within the social perspective."

In an altruistic sense I could respect his statement. It did leave me wondering what he worked toward. We had already established that as a member of society I could work to better myself. It provided the potential for gain.

The sad thing was I could imagine nothing else.

"Society is a beast with many heads, Al." Sam continued. "It feeds on itself. We are persuaded to believe that we are all very important people. That would appear to be a good thing. Every intrusion on our rights and freedoms is sold by a simple statement. 'It is in your best interest.' If I was truly an important person I could decide for myself whether I wanted to wear a seatbelt or not. As a member of modern society your life is not your own. There are an entire set of rules and regulations that power the engine, which are all there so that the participants no longer have to think. You have seat belt laws, you cannot smoke in a public building, and every cyclist must wear a bicycle helmet. We are told these rules are there for our safety; that the violation of our freedom of choice is there because we are that important. If we were truly important we could make our own decisions. As a sliver of eternity I will simply not allow anyone to dictate the terms of my existence. My life is my own."

I was shocked by the vehemence in his voice. I considered his assertion that I had to wear a seatbelt because I was important. The law was something I had accepted without questioning. It was in my best interest, of course.

What he had said the value system of a sorcerer intrigued me. I finally came to the realization that throughout our association he had been doing just that. He had been saturating me with a completely different set of values.

I could see the benefit of his position, as well as what was lost as a result of the ticket he had offered. I also came to the very sober realization that I had lost the one true love of my life due to ticket I had held my entire life.

I considered what he had said during one of our conversations. He had expressed the belief that non-smokers should have fought for the right to sit in a smoke-filled bar. The idea was both strange and compelling.

"The goal of the universe is to learn and grow." Sam continued. "That is why the offer of freedom is there. The universe is intelligent. You can consider it intelligent design if you wish, but like what we will be discussing this afternoon, the concept has also been applied erroneously. If the design of the universe were to impose rules—if our existence was fated—nothing new would evolve. If one was told were to go, and what to do, how would anything new come about? The capacity to learn and grow is intelligence; a design simply sets limitations.

"But you have said that we achieve freedom through limitation, and that freedom is related to responsibility.

Sam beamed in approval. He did not pursue an explanation. His expression turned what I can only call wistful.

"Our freedom comes at a price. We are free to fuck shit up. In the end the universe grows regardless." His expression was so comical that I could only laugh.

"That can be a lot of fun as well, Sam."

"Very true." Sam responded. "We have freedom within our four walls, for better or worse. The design is our choice of décor—the limitation that of our own spirit and nature. The intelligence is realized when one chooses one's field of battle. In the end, it will simply be better or worse for us. The universe at large will be fine."

"You said freedom within four walls, Sam. What do you mean by that?"

Sam closed his eyes as he considered. He waited for a moment before opening them and offered his response.

"Events in life unfold due to the awareness of its participants. Sorcerers refer to a mold, and in regards to a human being, it is the mold of man that defines ones limitations. As you said, freedom is dependent upon the limitations that define it. One can get drunk, or high on drugs, because the poisons that are consumed have an effect on the body that ingests them. There is a limit to how much one can drink in a lifetime. If that limit were not a condition of the body, then intoxication would not be possible."

I then burst out laughing. Sam looked at me quizzically.

"Oh, I did mushrooms a few times when I was younger. My friend would say... 'Holy shit somebody poisoned me... wait a second, it was me!"

Sam grinned impishly before continuing.

"As a human being we have our four walls. Think about it for a moment. The wealthy monarch of a great nation has priceless works of art on his walls, in addition to other forms of wealth. The peasant that works his fields returns home at the end of a day and sleeps within his unadorned white walls. The scenery changes, though the white walls hold true for all."

"Are you saying that the wealth of the monarch is meaningless?"

"Both the monarch and the peasant end their day, safe within their four walls. The wealth of the monarch is neither better nor worse, it is simply different. The strength of any species is dependent on its diversity."

"I would still rather be the monarch." I commented.

Sam simply shrugged in response. "The life of a monarch comes with very different set of responsibilities and limitations. Monetary wealth simply creates different issues."

"What do you mean by the mold of man, Sam?"

"In regards to the human body, excluding mutations, we all have five fingers on either hand, and five toes on either foot. The mold of man is the template for the physical body. As I said the other day, this can be extended far beyond the body. Most people are in possession of a coffee mug, a vehicle, and a residence of some kind. You have a jacket and several pairs of socks. Items of interest follow us throughout our existence. The wealthy monarch might have a fleet of limousines. A sorcerer needs no more than method of conveyance. Our feet are an admirable example. Wealth is irrelevant, though we all need a jacket, socks, and a way to get from point A to point B."

Sam took a sip of his coffee before continuing. I took the time to consider joining a nudist colony.

"Both the monarch and the peasant have one thing in common—four walls. Certainly those walls are very different, but the four white walls of the peasant are simply a different perspective than those of the monarch. Neither is any better or any worse."

I considered what Sam had said about being homeless for two years.

"A homeless man lives without walls."

"The walls of a man sleeping on a park bench are the tree's which surround him. His ceiling is simply the stars at night and the sky by day."

Sam's argument made being homeless almost attractive. He caught my eyes and held them with his own for a moment.

"Wealth is often a pleasant distraction. A homeless man may not be regarded with respect, but having millions of dollars, in the eyes of a sorcerer, is simply a different form of shame. It is why social constructs cannot abide those of a sorcerer. The dream is the same, it is simply what one considers to be of value that undergoes an adjustment. In regards to society, the monarch is the ideal. Neither a sorcerer nor the universe itself gives a shit about one's social standing. The four white walls of the monarch are as valid as those of the peasant. The priceless art is not but a vanity."

Sam looked around the cabin casually.

"What are you aware of, Al?"

My focus was on Sam, but he was framed by the cabin I had grown to know over the past week.

"My surroundings?"

"Well that is a choice, is it not? One can be aware of things on a variety of levels. It is why choosing a playing field defines ones identity. For a sorcerer physical reality is integral. You can be aware of emotions, thoughts, other people, or your environment. I watched a movie once about Rasputin. Rasputin says to the doctor in the film... 'You are dead because you soul goes unappreciated.' The doctor responds... 'I have performed many autopsies, but I have never found a soul.' Rasputin looks at him calmly for a moment and responds... 'Have you found any memories, or emotions either?'"

Sam's expression was serious.

"What do you think is more relevant in the end? The meat suit you wear, or your emotions and memories? My awareness is ultimately what is of value. I will never be able to dissect your memories, not unless you offer them first. When I talk about the four walls I am referring to the environment. Without an environment there would be no individual. Most people are lost to a mirror, and the focus of their awareness is the ego, and as a result one's social standing. When one breaks free of social constructs it is the environment which figures most prominently. To go back to the concept of the two sides, the environment is the left side, which leaves society to the right. They are two different worlds. One must first make a choice as to which world one will inhabit. An ant has both an environment and a world of its own as well. Once the playing field has been decided it is how one conducts oneself that is the question.

"So I am my environment?" It sounded inane when I said it.

"If you are a sorcerer the answer is yes. Someone who does not think highly of themselves may take a job as a janitor. Someone with more self-worth may find a higher calling. It is the environment one inhabits that tells the tale in the end."

Sam had a faraway look in his eyes.

"If there are two hundred people in a movie theater, the very same movie plays for every individual present. No two people in the theater will see the same show."

For some reason I had the distinct impression that I was being set up. I had to bite anyway.

"I suppose you can explain that, Sam?"

"I have told you any number of times that an individual is everything one perceives throughout life. Every single member of the audience has born witness to completely different circumstances. You could argue that the same show plays every time, but that is irrelevant. Different life experiences yield different responses to the same stimulus. Maybe the movie features a dog similar to one you had as a young child. The person sitting next to you does not have the same emotional tie to that dog. Those memories elicit a different response from the every movie-goer. The same show never plays twice. Even if the same person were to watch the movie a second time, they would see something slightly different as a result. Therein one finds the Nagual."

Sam had said that the universe was here to be experienced, and that it learns from those very experiences. If I could accept what he was saying, I realized that I would never be bored again.

"I did not realize I was so creative."

Sam seemed to appreciate that comment immensely.

"Most people don't. We believed at one point that the earth was the center of the universe. I am quite certain that everyone in the movie theater believes they are watching the same movie. They are mistaken." He broke into a broad grin.

I looked at Sam's paintings once again. Certainly the idea that I had a hand in creating what I experienced held some appeal. It was a concept I would only truly embrace much later.

"Is that why you called the painting, 'For your eyes only.'?" Sam was an accomplished painter.

"Of course it is, Al. Everything you see around you exists in its own right. Having said that, it is the Tonal that lends meaning to existence. Out of endless possibilities you have assembled the environment which holds your awareness. My painting is simply something which you have added to your own."

Some of Sam's theory was very challenging. The painting was very well done. I had to congratulate myself on doing a very good job.

Sam saw my grin but I shook my head encouraging him to continue.

"I told you that a sorcerer looks neither up nor down in regards to those he is dealing with. I call you a sliver of eternity. Consider what I have said about the four walls. Ultimately it comes down to the issue of energy. I told you that in terms of awareness, everyone is equal. I want you to consider this statement for a moment. It literally takes no more effort to keep a clean house than it does to keep a messy one."

When I had lived with my friend our place was a typical bachelor pad. When I moved in with Sara things had been different.

"Why do you say that, Sam?"

"Let's say you eat one meal a day, and have a total of fifteen dishes in the house. You dirty thirty dishes in a month, yes?"

"Yeah, I guess."

"In my first example the individual does not do dishes at all. After fifteen days all his dishes are dirty. Due to the fact that this rather lazy individual has to eat, he then cleans a dish every time he has a meal. Remember what I said about the sliver of eternity. Consider eternity the last two weeks of the month. How many dishes does he clean in total?"

"He would have to clean fifteen dishes." What a clean house had to do with energy and awareness was beyond me. I waited for him to continue. Sam was looking at me with a grin.

"In order to keep a spotless house what would you have to do?"

I caught a glimpse of the approaching argument.

"You would have to clean a dish after every meal."

Sam clapped his hands together enthusiastically.

"Yes! So the guy with the dirty house has to clean one dish every meal. The guy with the spotless house has to clean one dish after every meal as well. The energy it takes for both examples is the same. In reality it takes more effort for the guy with the messy house. Cleaning food off dirty dishes takes more effort than when one does them immediately."

His simple logic baffled me. I decided then and there that I would keep a clean place.

"This has something to do with awareness, Sam?"

"Certainly some people are more aware than others. What one is aware of is dependent on where one expends energy. The concept of equal rights is true in regards to the Nagual, though it is applied erroneously in regards to the folly of man. In regards to the Tonal there is the potential for loss and gain. One can maintain a clean house or live in a pigsty. One can be omniscient in a limited sense or blind to the world. In regards to energy expended, one thing is equal to the other. We are both limited and liberated by this energetic fact. The result of deliberate application and expenditure of both energy and conscious awareness can be extraordinary."

"And I am my environment. You said that I could be omniscient in a limited sense. Can you explain what you mean by that?"

"It is the crux of sorcery, Al. I told you that a sorcerer is always present. Your entire existence has led to the conversation we are currently having. Awareness accumulates from moment to moment, and past experience leads to the present moment. That being the case, you are currently in possession of every nuance and bit of knowledge you need for your continued survival. You are omniscient, in a limited sense. The limits are provided by your experience—they are set by your own being."

Sam raised an eyebrow speculatively.

"You have your four walls, Al. In this all creatures are equal. Awareness is the final issue for a sorcerer. The manner in which energy is expended creates the endless variety of existence. As people we are ultimately limited by our Tonal."

For some reason when he said that I was reminded of my dream of being a cat the night before. I had not said anything about it to Sam. I really did not know why.

"A human being lives under the illusion that they are the most important creature in the world. Agreement runs the 'World of Appearances.' We spend most of our energy simply maintaining that illusion. One strives for their position in the folly." He sighed. "It is an aspect of the human expression. The equality of awareness applies to all. A sorcerer simply expends his energy differently."

I thought how taxing some of my more tenuous friendships back home could be at times. I also realized that my conversations with Sam often had the same result.

"Generally, proper conduct is the most efficient. Doing the wrong thing costs more energetically. A sorcerer is impeccable; accomplishing more by expending less energy."

I was aware of the divide within myself once again. One part of me found this statement rather appealing. The other part was offended by his reasoning.

He looked around the cabin.

"Do you like my place, Al?"

"Of course, Sam, I have appreciated my time here."

"I consider myself no more important than the tree's from which my cabin was built."

The part of me which had trouble accepting his statement looked around with a touch of horror. If he truly believed what he was saying how could he be anything but a monster?

I looked back to see him observing me calmly.

"You hear me but you are not listening. You are looking around at all the trees which were used to build this cabin and painting them all as important as you think you are."

His expression was serious.

"You are not that important. You could die now and the only thing of value you would have had would be your life experience. Death could come ten years from now, and though you would have experienced more, it remains but a singular awareness. All anyone gets is a lifetime, Al, nothing more, nothing less. You can choose your battles, and wind up the monarch or the peasant—your experience equal with the rest."

He gave me a moment.

"Next time some annoying little fly is buzzing around your house take a lesson from the universe at large. Think to yourself, 'Hey, that's me!'" his gaze was steady, "and then swat the little bugger."

The Argument

Having finished our talk I set about gathering what I had brought into the cabin and preparing for my departure. As I packed I was rather thankful that it was mid-winter. My room was free of flies.

When I had finished getting my things together I sat quietly on the bed. What struck me as odd was the fact that I felt quite at home. It was my approaching return to the city which felt foreign.

Sam had said that out here I was in the wilderness. Why then did it feel like the truth was just the opposite? I spent some time with my feelings as I brought my things out to the truck.

At home nobody would call me 'Al.'

When I had finished packing everything up I once again joined Sam in the living room. He looked me over quietly as I took my usual spot on the couch.

"Ready for the trip home I presume?"

I sighed.

"I thought of this trip as an escape, Sam. Why do I get the feeling that I have traveled further than I planned?" He chuckled quietly. "The city seems very strange for some reason."

I would be homeless myself upon my return. I thought about what Sam had said about the little piles of sand that marked an ant's nest. Apparently it was necessary to claim your own space. I looked around the cabin, and though I had to admit that it did not suit my own personal style, it complemented my host beautifully.

I turned my thoughts to what Sam had said about intent being the end result of a situation. I really did not think I could call a park-bench home. I had come out here with the intent of dealing with the loss of Sara. My attempt was a success, though the manner in which I had accomplished it had been completely unexpected.

When I left town, I had been wounded. I considered what Sam had said about the crows. He had said that I was a six when I appeared on his doorstep. I had fallen to pieces. I was going home a hunter.

"When you first wound up on my doorstep, I attempted to liberate you by giving you a new name. It was not done whimsically. Generally my visitors are suffering a crisis of some sort. Yours was the issue of identity."

I knew I was in a state of crisis when I left town. How he surmised that it was an issue of identity was beyond me.

"Why do you say that, Sam?"

"I say it for a number of reasons. The simple answer is that most people find validation through others. The universe wants to know who you are. It always gets an answer, one way or another. You attempted to resolve your dilemma by pursuing a course that led you far from those you knew. You found the Nagual rather than the embrace of your established identity."

I thought about the odd divided feeling I had had on many occasions during my stay. My little journey into insanity was one example. One part had been nervous and insecure. The other part of me always left the impression of calm dark water.

Sam was silent, which gave me time to ponder. He had said that a sorcerer is in possession of his or her totality. When I turned my mind to this issue I came to a startling realization.

The divide did not reside within my-self. I do not think that it existed in regards to my host either.

It existed between myself and those I knew.

"When I leave here I will be returning to a different identity, Sam." Why did I feel a poignant sense of loss? It was akin to my breakup with Sara. I shook my head to snap myself out of it.

"What do you expect me to do with 'Al' when I leave?"

"Your friends and family do not know 'Al.'" Sam responded. "I suggest you leave it that way, and observe others without judgment. During your time here I have provided a solid foundation from which you can observe those around you. That foundation is outside of social constructs. In the end, you are free to do as you wish."

To be honest the unique perspective held some appeal. I considered once again what I would tell people about my trip. It had not changed with my impending return. I had told Sam nothing about the dreams I had had while with him. For some reason I did not consider my dreams his business.

My time with Sam was not the business of those I knew.

"Before you go, we should discuss what it means to be an individual. The sorcerer's perspective can be a little difficult to accept."

"Go ahead, Sam."

"We spoke the about the world, which I call Gaia, and how it is appropriate to think of her as a lady of many moods. There are sunny days and rainy ones, all occurring simultaneously around the planet, as well as storms and other phenomena. Moods are a good metaphor. They are in relation to many influences. An earthquake occurs as a result of stress. The countless forms of life which inhabits this planet are the voices of Gaia. We are a small part of a larger whole."

I had gone through an emotional rollercoaster with Sam. I had to concede that an individual voice could embody different moods as well, dependent on the individual in question.

"To go back to our example of cats and dogs, you have the opportunity to observe two very distinct Tonal's. The personalities of either animal are completely unique. I want to point out that the physical characteristics of the animals are unique expressions of the spirit, and that they are in no way separate from the expression itself. They are simply different voices."

Sam had called it body language. I believe that I was still having difficulty thinking about myself as a voice. I smiled when I recalled his story about the difference between cats and dogs. Sam continued.

"Gaia is vast, and old beyond human comprehension. The universe is around four-teen billion years of age. The milky-way is an older galaxy. Our planet is estimated to be around four billion years old. If the universe is sixty-five, our planet is still a vibrant twenty." Sam paused and caught my eye, he then raised a hand and snapped his fingers. "In regards to the time involved, that noise was the duration of the entire existence of homo-sapiens. Trying to understand her is useless, though through careful observation of her moods and her voices, one can eventually come to some sort of understanding."

I had always enjoyed the camping trips I went on with my friends. I had to admit that I had never been terribly green, and would not consider myself a tree hugger.

"You talk about Gaia as if she is alive."

"Yes, I do, don't I?" He did not elaborate. Sam fell silent for a moment and held my attention. I was about to ask him a question when a strange memory surfaced.

On one of those camping trips I had been playing poker with my friends. We were at a picnic table that had been covered with a tarp due to the fact that the evening was accompanied by a light rain. One of my friends, who had fallen upon ill luck, called us over to the campfire with an exclamation of amazement.

The only light outside was that supplied by a full moon. My friend was waving us over enthusiastically. Those remaining in the game put down their cards and went out to see what had exited my friend so much.

To our amazement, there in the starless sky, was a lunar rainbow, complete in varying shades of grey where the colors of a normal rainbow would be.

My memory of the event had surpassed the physical company of my host. I looked at him once again to see him grinning broadly. I shared the story with some amazement. I had not thought about that rainbow in some time.

"As I said, Al, Gaia is a creature of many moods. What I want to discuss is your own identity. You are whoever you think you are. It is completely under your control. Other people are not. It is beneficial to discuss the larger whole in order to give you some insight in regards to your sliver."

I assumed he was talking about Gaia.

"I have discussed the differing voices of a number of creatures during your stay. Consider the example of honey bees once again. They are voice of Gaia as well. They are a collective ruled by a queen. All the participants in the community work for the good of the whole."

I considered what Sam had said about being part of something bigger.

"The expression of a honey bee and that of a human could not be more divergent. The human race is far more along the lines of an argument. It is our basic nature to lean to the right. For the most part it is due to the development of language in human beings. It is learned through mimicry. Is it not odd that while our species leans towards linguistic agreement all we can do in the end is argue truth?"

"We are an argument?"

"Well yes. You can consider it a very heated—very long debate. The most intelligent argument you will ever hear goes something like this. Did not! Did too! Did not! Did too!" Sam grinned once again. "As we get older our argument simply becomes more convoluted. Ultimately what we want is our sliver to be the truth. It is only ever a sliver, but as people we want it all. It is why I focus on moods as an example. One individual will say 'I am sad,' while another will express happiness. When someone says they are sad, 'yes-but,' has no relevance. You cannot argue with an emotion. In regards to intelligence, one can 'yes-but' to ones hearts content. One mood is as valid as any other. Arguing which mood is correct is pointless. Due to the social persuasion what one generally winds up with is a compromise. One must make concessions for other moods, all in the hope they are not contagious. Gaia has many moods as well. That being said, the debate goes on and on."

Sam caught my eyes. "We debate truth ceaselessly, as if it were not present every day of our lives."

"Well what is the truth?"

"You are. You are present every day of your life as well. Each and every one of us is an individual truth. You could say that we are comfortable in our own truth, but we have a great deal of trouble accepting the truth of others, due to the fact that they appear to invalidate our own."

Sam once again offered me his finger. This time I was actually tempted to pull it. I offered a smile instead.

"In the morning you get dressed and pull on a green t-shirt. You can stand in front of the mirror and argue to your heart's content. That t-shirt will remain green. The environment is the truth, it asks no questions, and will brook no argument. I told you that what is offered is freedom. That is an offer one can accept or deny. Most people, although they cry freedom every day, reject the offer. A sorcerer changes his mind when he changes his shirt. There is stability found in that position, along with the inherent limitation." I was once again reminded of the nervous, jittery part of myself. "The mind offers a freedom that we exercise religiously, though in the end it is a cop out. Your offer will be accepted just the same. You can go to a mosque or a Christian church. The reality is where you kneel. Unfortunately, due to social pressure, we peck away, attempting to make others accept our own truth. It does not work. We live in the time of five legged dogs. Thus we have the debate. Your being here is an example of my role in that very debate."

"Well what is my role, Sam?" I wanted to know

"You must provide your own argument. The problem comes from the knowledge that the truth in those around you is not your own. One does not exclude the other. The other problem with humanity is that our species does not like the larger truth, which would involve taking responsibility for our actions as a species. At the moment you are listening to my own argument. I told you that I cannot truly escape my fate. I am a member of the human species, so my dream is a dream of wealth. I have that through my home and my surroundings. My participation is inevitable, and my choice is to participate through you. In a much smaller scale what applies to Gaia applies to the individual as well. We all have many divergent moods."

All the world is a stage.

During the course of our talk something unseen had been hovering. Every time I thought about my participation in the debate I could feel its presence. For the life of me I could not figure out what my own argument was.

"Is it necessary to participate in the argument?" I was thinking about my friends and family back home. "What if I chose not too?"

Sam laughed quietly. I must admit I sounded childish.

"I was hoping you would ask the right question. That is not it. You are a voice like any other. Most people consider themselves separate bubbles. We define ourselves in regards to one another. That is where the self-awareness of a sorcerer comes in. This is my contribution." He made a broad gesture to take in the surroundings. "My own identity was forged through interaction with the rest of the folly. Yours will be as well. My sliver is always present—as is yours. You have your own voice. It was present with you at birth. I simply want it heard. Certainly one can choose a religion. That is not what I am referring too. Ultimately we are ruled by our own personal expression."

His eyes held an edge as he looked me over.

"Look at it from either side. You are. You are whatever you think you are as well. I am afraid you do not get to choose, Al. You will make strange noises in an attempt to communicate regardless."

I think we all have moments when we wish we are free of ourselves. I had been free, the night before, in a dream. I still did not know what to make of the experience.

"No, I suppose not Sam." It was not the best argument, I had to admit.

Sam was looking at me speculatively.

"We are all part of a larger whole, Al. The human debate will continue without a winner or a loser. It is far better to take oneself into consideration. We have our good moods and our bad moods. Our mood ultimately determines the quality of our experience. It is people who judge, and if you were to ask, most people would prefer sunny days."

He leaned closer.

"I told you that a moment of joy is as relevant as one of sorrow. Some people are simply an expression of a good mood. That does not make them right. Some people are the embodiment of stress and strain. It does not make them wrong. It means there is stress in either the environment or our species, which is a world of its own. Our argument is heard regardless."

I thought about it for a moment. If someone were an expression of stress or strain they were simply voicing something that was present in society. In order for there to be an individual, there had to be an environment. Sam had said that my issue was one of identity. Even if I was a voice, I could still choose what I had to say. I was left wondering what kind of day I was.

"We have touched on the topic of intent before. You can consider a voice and a vessel one in the same. It is interesting how much more pleasant drinking wine out of a nice wine glass is, as opposed to what it is like drinking it out of a plastic cup. The intent is the wine in your glass. You are a voice, which is in turn a part of the human debate."

I was attempting to put all this together to the best of my ability.

"The human condition is far removed from that of a colony of honey bees. A colony of bees is not an argument. There is neither discord nor conflict other than with other creatures. There is no argument. As I said, the colony is also directed by a queen. I want you to realize that both ants and honey bees are an example of a collective ruled by a queen."

"Do ants and bees have a dream as their foundation as well, Sam?"

Sam smiled in approval.

"Yes they do, Al. I told you that the human dream is one of wealth and value. If you wanted to know their dream you would have to ask. The true wealth in regards to yourself as an individual is your environment. To the right you have society, which feeds on the very individuals who compose it. That folly will come to an end."

And Sam's professed intent was to introduce me to my own voice. I could only wonder what I was arguing about.

That would come after I chose a playing field.

"You can think about it in regards to the weather forecast on television. 'Tomorrow there is a fifty percent chance of precipitation.' All of own knowledge and technology and we still have to rely on a coin flip to find out how we feel. Every sliver you come across is a small part of eternity. Some of them are true to themselves. That is the only truth you will find. When you act in the world you are in an adverse situation, caught between many competing expressions. Your truth and those of others are inevitably at odds."

"Well how is any of this information supposed to help me?"

He broke into a grin.

"It helps is you can realize and accept truths other than your own. Only then will your own truly be realized. I told you that the right side is a guardian, a protector. In the bible it says that we are sinners. Eternity is a story told by many participants. If you tell the story that we are damned and need to be saved for no other reason than that we are alive? Consider the effect of that story. Unfortunately there is some truth to that argument. It is what makes it dangerous. They call it body language. The Tonal is a sliver, a guardian, a protector. Ultimately we are protecting the universe from ourselves."

I sat in silence.

"That is why self-awareness is so important. There is no take-two. First of all it is necessary to understand the world you inhabit. You are not an ant. You are a threat because you are a truth opposed to those with which you keep as company. Ants have no such discord. Their society is in harmony, though they must also compete with other voices."

And I realized that our argument may very well stem from the fact that we really did not have any natural predators to compete with. I still did not want to consider myself a threat.

"Society is an unfortunate compromise, which generally lacks a voice of its own. The price of gold fluctuates in regards to the investors. When you invest in gold, you are betting on the fact that your perception of economic trends is better than those of others. Being able to see and predict trends is necessary in nature in order to survive. The human race and that of a species of ants are different Tonal's. We are part of a larger whole just the same. The human race competes with other members of the species. The price of gold is fixed daily just the same."

I was feeling more than a little lost at this point.

"Adversity promotes growth, Al. Ants are a collective expression, but they still struggle for a place to call home. Humanity is a collective expression as well. The social body regulates the price of gold on the stock exchange. When a human being invests in a stock, that human is simply betting that other members of the species are dumber than they are."

Dumber and Dumber. I got it. I pictured myself in Aspen, in a baby blue suit.

"There is nothing inherently wrong with a rainy day, Al. If you were to look at it from a personal level, there is nothing wrong with feeling blue. If someone tells you that their wife died during childbirth and that it makes them very sad, 'Yes, but,' can offer no argument to the contrary."

He paused for a moment before continuing.

"I have told you that you create the environment you perceive, in the same way everyone in a movie theater sees a different show. The environment is neither right nor wrong. That requires the presence of life. For better or for worse you will always be yourself. What is there to fear? All of the doubt one experiences revolves around the opinions of those around you. Your argument will be heard regardless. Will you offer your argument consciously or not? The only suggestion I can make is for you to be true to yourself. That is correct. Your surrounding environment is a reflection which is more valid than any you will see in a mirror."

Sam broke the weight of the conversation with a broad grin.

"What I am trying to tell you, Al, is that there is cause for neither for self-doubt nor worry. There is no reason to fear the opinions of others or truths different from your own. An opinion is ultimately most relevant to the person in question. And if you agree with my opinion? Then it is your opinion. To be honest the person you have to watch out for the most in life is yourself. Other truths are wonderful in a debate. It is a debate that should be welcomed. Being true to yourself is difficult. That is why a sorcerer must be a warrior."

He winked. "I am."

Sam appeared to be rather pleased with him-self. I think we all struggle to find meaning in our lives. Sam was offering a direction, though where it led was beyond me. Sam was silent as I pondered. I could be neither right nor wrong. Why worry?

After a few moments I simply burst out laughing. Sam was watching me calmly. I cannot really define what I realized, though there was no doubt that it was funny. Sam gave me a moment and then nodded.

"Yes, I believe you have it."

We sat quietly for a while. I can only say I was stunned by some silent understanding which was a form of strength without words. Sam seemed content to sit there.

I decided I would leave the truth alone for a while.

Sam wrapped up our afternoon conversation by giving me something else to think about.

"I have told you that a sorcerer vanquishes his mind. A sorcerer's intent is purely physical. That being the case, when you leave here tomorrow, you will effectively cease to exist."

"Oh really?" I was wary.

"When I did my magic trick you were not impressed. Your leaving will be an act of sorcery itself. At the moment you are part of my environment. Like the vanishing egg, when you leave, you will cease to exist."

I doubted I could say the same about him.

"If you return, you will once again have my complete attention."

The Mechanics of Intent

Sam and I ate a companionable lunch. I would like to say I was there, but in essence I was not. The return home occupied my mind. I would have to find an apartment, retrieve my things from storage, move, go back to work, and deal with other mundane tasks.

I finished my meal without tasting it. When I looked up I saw Sam regarding me with an amused smile. I immediately felt guilty.

I had been offended when Sam had said that I would vanish when I departed. There he was, sitting across the table from me, and I was already gone.

He wiped his mouth with a napkin before breaking the silence.

"The mind offers freedom, but it is a poor castle, Al. It is why people refer to it as being lost in thought."

Sam raised an eyebrow speculatively. I decided that the city could wait for my return. At the moment I had Sam for company.

"I will brew some tea. Have a seat in the living room and spend some time with me. It is your last day here. At the moment I require your presence."

I got comfortable in the living room while Sam boiled some water in the kitchen.

When Sam had finished brewing the tea he joined me.

"I told you that you are a voice. That being the case, do you have any questions?"

I considered before responding.

"You told me once that 'why's' are not very filling. I've already eaten anyway?" I sounded petulant for some reason. Maybe it was due to my upcoming vanishing act. Sam ignored the discord.

"I did say once that the body asks no questions. I have had a lot to say about the thinking process. Real thoughts actually arise from various places in the environment. They are tangible and have substance."

Since I had nothing to add to the conversation I waited for him to continue.

"In the end each and every one of us is a manifestation of some aspect of the environment itself. We are all defined relation to one another as well. I told you once that there are two people in any one relationship. There is only ever one relationship. Most people spend the majority of their lives attempting to prove themselves right and the other wrong. If it is one relationship what is the point."

Sam cleared his throat.

"There is intent involved in a relationship as well. One and one are one. Intent in the end result of a series of events, but it is expressed throughout any relationship as well as any time you speak. Your physical being is the vessel which carries the intent of your being. Your words carry your intent when you feel inclined to speak. Intent is a crucial concept in sorcery. It is also a function of the Nagual. The words are the work of the artist in question. It is a concept lost on most. Some people think that saying and doing the right thing is all that matters. In the end, all that matters is ones intent."

"Well what if things do not turn out the way you intended?"

"They always do. In the end, if things do not turn out the way you wanted, your intent was not expressed in an appropriate manner."

"Really." I had a lot of respect for my host but in this case his assertion seemed a little altruistic.

"When we went out to hunt the buck your offer was true. Your intent was clear. It also resolved the issue which had taken you so far out of town in the first place. Intent is inherent in every act."

"And if it does not turn out the way I intended I did something wrong."

"You were not true. It is a worthy thing to practice. There are many ways to cultivate intent but simply following your word is the best way to start.

"Every act in life is ruled by intent. It pervades every aspect of existence. Intent is intrinsic to sorcery, as is the spirit through which one acts. We learn through physical experience, generally not by talking.

Sam fell silent again, holding my gaze.

"Intent is what drives you. The spirit is movement. Your body moves closer to its own demise with every day that passes. It is why death is a worthy companion. It is one you can always rely on. I told you that a sorcerer is always present. It is simply a different form of immortality. I will be present at the moment my own demise. That is my intent. Death is an intrinsic part of life, and in the end it lends life meaning."

I thought about my own intent when I left town. Sam had said that the intent was the end result. I was rapidly approaching the end of my vacation.

"You asked me once if I was telling you to consider yourself a work of art. All the world is a stage. It is a great story! Stories have their good guys and their bad guys. They have their romances, their failures and their triumphs. There is a universal sadness that is complemented nicely by a sense of humor. An individual's life encompasses all of that. Therein the intent. Unfortunately most people lie to themselves constantly. It is a result of looking in a mirror rather than at those around you. Part of the reason is the passive predators that I described the other day. They whisper false pleasantries that we are loath to reject."

For some reason I experienced a profound sense of loneliness. Sam seemed to sense my mood, and I looked up to find his gaze compassionate. I thought about how he had laughed during our first real discussion, and how I had then fled his company. Why I received no compassion then, and did so now, was beyond me.

I appreciated it anyway.

"Ultimately your intent is the effect that you have on both your environment and those around you. It was present while you were dating your girlfriend. It was in the animal which crossed your path on your way out of town, the result of which is our time together. It was with you when I dubbed you 'Al.' Your life is the culmination of everything that happened before you were born, as well your influence in regards to future events. You are a sliver of eternity. Later on in the evening, I will offer yet another introduction. You have already seen the Nagual, and been recognized in turn. Life is a process of both hello's and good-bye's. It is a game with live participants. Our lives are given relevance by our own mortality."

Both Sara and I were still alive. I found it a little odd to consider the fact that my relationship with her had ended long after hers had with mine. I considered the sacrifice of the buck. Perhaps my offer had in some way contributed to the existence of the buck.

"Yesterday I asked you 'how' you move your finger. You could offer no response. There is a reason for that. The left side can only be experienced, it cannot be talked about. Your heart beats and in much the same manner which intent rules; it is the domain of the Nagual. The spirit lies between two contradictory currents of energy which are both, at the same time, nevertheless true. Since intent is to the left, it cannot be discussed effectively, but it can be verbalized to the best of one's ability. Your intent is ultimately who you are. Your vessel carries that intent, while the spirit is the movement between. It is a very nice cup."

I can honestly say that I found Sam's complement of my cup, or my vessel if that is which it was, very flattering. I also felt a strange sense of completion. I was remembering a sunny day once again. My dream vague reminder which was nevertheless as solid as the stone gateway. Why I would associate a dream and a solid reminder was beyond me. When Sam invited me to take that journey, we had been discussing silent knowledge. My sense of completion was in the same vein as that dream. My time with Sam was almost at an end. I suppose it was yet another death of sorts.

"I will repeat that simple truth for you once again. Whether you are a good person or a bad person, a saint or a sinner, you are who you are. In the end, what is there to be afraid of? You have made your choice, and there are no wrong answers. That is the faith of a sorcerer. It is why it is necessary to separate oneself from the folly. The folly has us compromising both our integrity and our values for no other reason than to fit in. Fit into what? It has us competing with each other for affection. Generally all we feel is fear of what others will see. Why the fear? A sorcerer lives in the knowledge that there are no secrets, and therefore a sorcerer has no points to defend."

Sam had shocked me on a number of occasions during our association. Throughout our discussions I had come to the conclusion that Sam lived removed from society as a form of escape. His latest comment fostered new insight. During one of our talks Sam had said that sorcery inspired fear in others. If there were no secrets, why the fear? Perhaps it was not the secrets people feared. Perhaps it was the lack thereof. It was possible that his living removed from society was not an escape as I had thought.

I considered my haunting Christmas Eve, and how he had time and time again addressed my unspoken thoughts. I considered the possibility that by removing himself from society he was not escaping the pecking order, it was entirely possible that he was allowing others their secrets.

Sam continued.

"There are a few qualifiers which go with this discussion. Society has us constantly believing that we must make some stupid move; that we must do some dance in order to prove ourselves. You are who you are. That being the case you can stand your ground without fear. It is not good enough to constantly give one-self positive reinforcements. You can say, 'I am good enough, I am strong enough, and god-damnit people like me,' until you are blue in the face. You will never unconsciously accept those statements until you prove yourself through your environment and those you associate with. If your choice of a playing field is society, then you must prove yourself socially."

I was experiencing a strange state of vertigo. I gathered myself and voiced my confusion.

"Your argument does not make sense, Sam. Yesterday you told me that it was up to others to make introductions. You said that a mirror casts shadows not reflections. You are also telling me that I am whoever I think I am..."

"And now I am telling you that you must prove yourself." Sam commented.

"Well which is it." I had moved from petulant to a state of denial.

"It is not really something which can be expressed verbally, in the same manner that it is others who must make ones introductions." Sam answered.

"The universe is made of two completely contradictory statements that are both nevertheless true." In this case the comment was my own.

"Sorcery is an abstract science." Sam nodded in agreement. Due to the persuasion of the Nagual, it cannot be defined. I will attempt to explain by giving you an example. Let me tell you a story about Matthew. Matthew was forever on the verge of sobering up. He walks to the beer store promising that he will get a six pack, along the promise that he will only drink two beers. He needs a few to take the edge off. Matthew then finishes the six beers, and walks back to the beer store. Our friend is already drunk, so it does not matter. He will sober up tomorrow."

"But he is an alcoholic, Sam."

"That is your opinion. As a matter of fact, he will only become an alcoholic if he joins AA, admits he has a disease, and accepts that he is powerless against alcohol. What Matthew needs to do in order to prove himself in regards to the environment, is buy a six pack and wake up with a beer or two in the fridge in the morning. He needs to either prove himself in regards to his environment are admit defeat. The beer in the fridge in the morning is what is required. Nothing else will suffice."

I experienced a wave of compassion. I do not know if it was for Matthew or my-self.

"I brought up the topic of the sorcerers faith. I also asked you 'how' you moved your finger. I want to point out that faith will never drive your car."

I started laughing. I really could not tell you why. I could not tell you how I moved my finger either. Sam was simply smiling. I could only think that our conversation was slightly ridiculous.

"We are discussing intent, Al. We have already talked about the limitation of language. Take the simple statement 'I love you,' for instance. 'I love you' can be an expression of devotion, indifference, or the embodiment of hate itself. It is not expressed through language. Love is expressed through intent, not the words spoken."

That was easy enough to understand. I fell silent for a time, which Sam did not intrude upon. Over the course of his stay he had established his position in regards to the left and the right rather clearly. I looked at the cup he which held his tea. Like everything in his cabin it was an elegant piece.

I considered some of my friends for a moment. Some were more perceptive than others. I found myself wondering where I fit in upon my return home.

"I suppose some people simply speak more candidly than others."

He nodded emphatically.

"That is true, one can only make the attempt, as inelegant as it can be at times. The problem people run into is when they believe that it is the words which matter, rather than the meaning—the intent." He took a sip of his tea. "The cup can certainly add to the experience of the tea. In the end it is the tea that matters."

He did brew a great cup of tea.

"Many people become lost in life. They go through the motions. They maintain pleasant conversations. They try to say the right thing, try to do the right thing, and in the end they are utterly hollow."

He put his empty cup back down.

"It is what I call Tonal for Tonal's sake. It is people praising god, looking around at one another to make sure that everyone validates their opinion by waving the same flag, while god himself goes unappreciated." He raised an eyebrow. "This is a nice cup as well, is it not?"

I nodded in agreement. Unfortunately I still felt like I was missing something crucial.

"The institutions which people have built are in place so that people neither have to think nor be responsible. We rely on rules and regulations rather than our own heads. The result is that people do not have to think. You can put your vehicle on auto pilot, and expect to magically arrive at their destination. Remember your insurance commercial. 'Unfortunately, life happens.'"

His expression was severe.

"It never works that way. The sorcerer's faith is different. If the entire human race were to board one bus, you would still need someone to drive the thing; it simply will not drive itself. If we are all passengers, we will never go anywhere. Although it is completely appropriate to have faith, faith will never steer your vehicle. The intent of the universe is simple. That which is offered is freedom. It is also the freedom to drive or be driven. Everyone can drive, but not everyone can be a passenger. When I say the word responsibility, you think of duty and obligation. The intent of the universe is that we are always responsible. Responsibility is ownership, even if what you hold in your hands is a bus ticket."

Sam had said that responsibility and freedom were related topics. I failed to see how freedom fit in. Sam was looking at me with a knowing smile.

"I really do not understand, Sam"

"A few days ago I told you that you had summoned Sara. I doubt you believe me, but from the sorcerers point of view that is exactly what occurred. Your winding up on my doorstep occurred with the same way. Your intent upon leaving town was to deal with the failure of your relationship. I have attempted to explain that everything that manifests in your life does so in regards to two things. Those two things are intent and the spirit through which one acts. The result is awareness."

This time I could see exactly where the conversation was heading. Why did it fill me with such trepidation?

"The sad thing about people is that they do not want to think. This is partly due to the influence of various predatory forces that discourage responsibility. If you are not responsible, someone else is. We describe loneliness in varying degrees of darkness. The light is our relationships. Ultimately we are all alone, except in regards to the spirit. I have already told you that your spirit is your physical form. It is not something from which you are separate. It is part of you. The left side comes first; the goal is to the right. Responsibility and freedom are related to the four walls. If they are not your walls, to whom do they belong? We want things to be easy, but adversity promotes growth."

Sam had said that a sorcerer was a warrior. I could see that truth with clarity. I had to ask myself if I was.

"The freedom that is offered to any creature is the freedom of responsibility. It is also very difficult to find in modern society." Sam paused for a moment with a smile. "You told me the story of an ex-girlfriend getting hit by a truck. When you are standing at a street corner and the walk signal says cross, it is still possible that you will be hit by a truck. If you are paying attention the chance of this occurring is vastly diminished. She was rewarded for being unaware—for thinking that if it says walk, you can walk. If you use your eyes you do not even need the bloody lights. You can cross any time you want."

He held my attention, his eyes once again dark.

"You were never paid for paying attention as you crossed the street. Your x-girlfriend thought a green light made her safe. She did not use her eyes. You have never been hit by a truck. She was paid thousands of dollars for being unobservant. The freedom you have is the freedom that is offered. It is the freedom of responsibility. That is the intent of existence."

He paused briefly before offering his final comment.

"It is also the last thing we want."

Introductions

Sam and I did little for the rest of the afternoon. When dusk fell he went to work in the kitchen, preparing our final meal together. Of course, for our last meal together, we once again ate from the spoils of my hunt. The idea of impending vanishing act was a bit harder to swallow. I was pleased that he had brought up another visit.

I did not particularly want to disappear for good.

After dinner we lit his small army of candles, and spent some time in front of the fire. At one point Sam got up and went into his bedroom. I looked around the cabin, taking in the details.

It would be my last night with Sam for some time.

My attention was drawn to the painting of the stone monolith. The memories of my dream were vague. What remained was that strange sense of completion. Below the painting, on the mantle, were the carvings. I stood up and approached them, looking at the angel in the center. Once again I was struck with how out of place it seemed. Everything in the cabin played off everything else. He had obviously put a great deal of thought into his décor.

The angel was the only thing which was out of place.

I picked it up to take a closer look. It was just what it seemed, something anybody could pick up in a novelty shop. I was turning it over when it slipped out of my hands. It hit the ground and shattered. I looked at the pieces in dismay.

I bent down to pick up the pieces, and noticed something in the shattered remains. The flickering glow of the fire played across its surface.

It was a penny with an Indian head on it.

I picked up the penny and turned it over. Sure enough the date was the same as the one Sam had displayed a few days earlier. I suppose Sam had heard it break on the floor. He returned from his bedroom and surveyed the scene.

He started laughing.

"Well you did not have to break the poor thing, Al. There was a hole in the bottom." He clucked his tongue disapprovingly. "You have a somewhat violent nature."

I was both embarrassed and shocked. He had told me he wanted me to find the penny, and there it was. I really did not know what to say, so I simply stood there, penny in hand.

"When an individual is left with no other option your manipulation seems very aggressive, but ultimately it is passive. The penny in your hand is a true example of aggression. That being said, there is no real need to be violent."

Sam chuckled again and went to grab a dustpan, which he handed to me. I swept my mess up, feeling a little sheepish. When I was finished I turned to find Sam sitting at the kitchen table.

He motioned for me to take a seat.

"Tonight is your last evening with me. You have been here for over a week. It would be rude of me to let you leave without the two of us being formally introduced."

I had absolutely no idea what he was talking about. He took in my expression with a smile. Without saying anything else he went back to the bedroom and emerged with a large piece of white stationary.

He then put me to work.

Sam placed the paper in front of me and went to a cupboard, withdrawing a small box. The contents revealed themselves in the form of art supplies.

"First of all you get to spend some time doing arts and crafts. I know you play the guitar well. Are you much of a visual artist?"

In my youth I had had a great deal of fun with various walls and a few cans of spray paint. I was proud of my youthful artistry. I responded to his question by nodding.

"Your final task will be to create a sign. Decorate it as you wish, but try to make it stunning."

I was at a loss.

"A sign for what, Sam?'

He put his hand on my shoulder and leaned close.

"Tomorrow, like Lazarus, you will be leaving to rejoin society. I want you to create a sign with your given name on it. Tomorrow you will don that name once again."

He clapped his hands together startling me.

"Introductions are a must!"

I had absolutely no idea where he was going with this, nor did I understand his reference in regards to an introduction. I had gotten to know my host rather well over the course of my stay. During my time with Sam I had realized that there was method to his madness.

The end of the story was approaching rather quickly. I wanted to see how it turned out.

With the supplies provided I went to work doing an artistic rendition of my name. He had not called me by my given name once while I was in his company. That was probably why my name looked strange as it took shape on the paper. As I worked I considered the concept of identity, and I guess it showed in my work. I drew upon my youthful interest in graffiti.

The end result was a stylized rendition of my given name. I leaned back and looked at my work with a critical eye. I had to admit it was rather well done.

My task made me think about my imminent return home. It had been approaching with a mixture of dread and fascination. By the time I had finished with my name I can say I was at peace with my departure.

"Very impressive." Sam startled me once again. He was looking over my shoulder at the finished product. I had been so immersed in my work I did not hear him approach.

He told me to wait and went to the closet, returning with a wooden stake. With a stapler that he removed from the box, he affixed the stake to the back of the sign. He held it up and looked at it for a moment, then nodded his head.

"Yes, this will do quite nicely. Get your coat and boots on, Al." I was a little disappointed that he did not use my given name. "We are going for a walk."

We both got ready to venture forth. I followed him out the door. The night was cold, but not overly so. We walked down the same path I had taken on my own. My tracks were still visible in the snow. Soon our way was lit only by moonlight. The evening was completely clear. There was not a cloud overhead.

I carried the sign.

After walking for about ten minutes we emerged from the trees into a wide clearing. Without the shadows of the forest, the winter landscape was surprisingly well lit. We walked to the center of the clearing and Sam gestured for us to stop.

We stood there for a moment. The silence was complete. We had not said a word to each other during our walk. I waited for Sam to break the silence.

"During your time with me, Al, I have talked and talked. Language is the medium of the Tonal. When you leave tomorrow keep that in mind. There are many, many, forms of communication. On a higher level it is simply a matter of energy. Life is found between the give and take—the push and pull."

I turned to look at him as he spoke. His voice had an odd ring to it in the crisp air.

"I told you when you leave tomorrow you will cease to exist. I will, however, leave this as a reminder, as the night sky will always remain."

He looked upwards and I followed suit. Far from the lights of the city the stars were brilliant. They were strewn, glittering, across the heavens.

"I told you that you are your environment. Consider that for a moment."

I once again experienced that oddly divided sensation. I was listening, but in my eyes there were only stars.

"When faced with these stars, one must realize that they are the property of all. They cannot be bought or sold. Each and every one is priceless beyond measure. This scene is present with or without my awareness, but it is who I am in the end." He raised his hand to the sky. "This is the exquisite creation I call home. I find the city gaudy and vulgar in comparison."

I could not disagree.

"I am!" His voice sent the intent of his assertion ringing through the cool night air. I had the impression that his words settled and took root. The evening offered no rebuttal. The snow on the ground reflected the pale light of the moon in a sea of sparkling crystals. It was if the ground were a reflection of the sky above.

And this was his home.

"So this is an introduction." His gesture took in the surroundings in a broad sweep. "This is the identity I have chosen for myself. I am everything I witness in life, and that being the case, I have chosen both a home and a playing field."

His voice dropped to a low murmur.

"This is here for anyone who decides to take notice. Unfortunately most have eyes only for themselves. A body can dance, it can sing, and it can play the guitar. What a waste to spend it in front of a mirror."

I felt very small in comparison to the star-scape above. We stood silently for a moment. He was right of course. This would always be here. All I had to do was be present myself.

I was about to feel smaller still. He caught my attention by snapping his fingers.

"The sign please, our introductions are not yet at an end."

He took the sign from me and walked out into the snow. He then planted the stake in the snow and walked back. I had a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. The end of the movie was in plain sight.

Sam was once again at my side. My given name was the highlight of the show.

"That," Sam said pointing at the sign, "is the salesman. I told you that when you are immersed in something it is next to impossible to see it for yourself. When you are in a city the light from a host of street lights pollutes the sky. When you are surrounded by others of a similar inclination the attempt to sell oneself does not seem vulgar at all. Out here, with me, you will get very clear view."

My sign held a silent vigil.

"I can assure you," he once again looked up, "when I am all this, I am not buying that." He pointed at my sign. "It is not that you did poor work, you simply cannot compete. I told you that creativity is quite possibly man's greatest gift. Your sign is very well done."

He patted my shoulder, but it did little to console me. My work looked forlorn and out of place in the snow. It was utterly dwarfed by the surroundings. Sam's eyes were glittering like the snow at our feet—like the stars up above.

"People spend almost every moment of their lives wishing something else was going on." At that moment I was feeling very small. "The funny thing is that afterwards they always wish they could return to those moments they never appreciated. Mankind is lost to its own reflection. People have high ideas of who they are, and yet they are never present where they are."

He pointed at my sign in the snow.

"When you are looking in a mirror, you leave yourself undefended. That is precisely what our adversaries want. If one can be present, even for a moment, they are in a far more defensible position."

I looked from Sam back to my name.

"The universe does not need to sell itself. In the end, you are part of the universe as well, if you decide to leave the salesman behind. Imagine this field littered with thousands of signs, all competing for attention. The sign could be adorned with lights, it could be framed with gold. A thousand different names could be out there competing for attention, but in the end all that does is validate your own sales-pitch. Sure you might make a great deal of money or attract a pretty girl. My question is simple. Why waste your time and energy defending that," my sign looked forlorn in the snow, "when you are all of this?" His gaze was once again on the heavens above.

"Who could ask for better company? There are very few things in life which one can count on. Guide yourself by the light of the stars, not by those of every passing ship. The stars will always be present. The opinions of others will not. All that is required is that you are present yourself."

I could not help thinking about Sara. I had loved her completely, and she now she was gone. The fault was none but my own. My intent, however, had been realized.

At that moment I had the light of the moon, the stars above, and Sam for company.

He placed his hand on my shoulder companionably.

"When you leave here tomorrow and rejoin society, keep your sign in mind. My goal here is not for you to reject it, quite the opposite as a matter of fact."

He walked out once again and grabbed my sign, returning it to me with a smile. Sam then started walking back down the path, leaving me with not but my own name in hand. I felt more than a little lost. He repeated his earlier comment as he walked away, leaving me standing there.

"If you are present, even for a moment, you will find yourself in a far more defensible position."

I stood there, alone in the snow and took in the evening. I noticed something strange now that my sign was no longer the center of attention. It had been an exercise in futility.

Standing there with the stars overhead I did not feel small at all.

Epilogue

I was greeted in the morning by birds chirping outside. With a stretch and a yawn I rose. As usual Sam was up before me. I wondered once again if I was the worm. He offered a good morning and I took my seat at the table. Breakfast was a silent affair. I realized that our talks had reached their conclusion.

Sam had introduced me to a number of things during my stay, not the least of which was Sam himself. Once we had finished breakfast I sat and observed my companion calmly, it would be the last I would see of him for some time.

I could only wonder what our next meeting would encompass.

"I am not quite the sorcerer you are, Sam. How exactly do I go about ceasing to exist?"

"Well I would suggest donning your coat and boots for a start. Wet socks are uncomfortable and make driving difficult."

We shared a laugh.

"I want to thank you for taking me in, Sam. I really do not know what I would have done without you."

He waved dismissively.

"We all have different parts to play. You simply allowed me to fulfill one of mine."

I reached into my pocket and withdrew the penny I had found. I considered what he had said about passive and aggressive tendencies. The penny would be a keepsake, as would the business card.

"Will you summon me again, Sam?"

"That is always a possibility."

I stood at the door, with Sam behind me, and found that words were not forthcoming.

"Have a pleasant journey." Sam had no such difficulty.

I could not help noticing that he did not refer to me as Al for his farewell. He stood in the doorway as I got into my truck. I started the engine, and drove out without looking back. What struck me as odd was the calm I felt. My mind was at rest, my eyes on the road. Al would be here waiting, if I ever returned.

The stars would always be overhead.

About an hour into my return trip I was struck by a sudden revelation. It was brought about by the lingering image of my sign in the snow.

When I had my first encounter with Sam, he had demanded to know what I was selling. I was present at all times. You could sell me neither a sunset nor the night sky. Why would I sell myself?

The city drew ever closer, and my realization took hold.

It was only when you were divorced from that simple truth that the sales pitch became necessary. During my first talk with Sam I had been attempting to sell him my sorrow. His laughter in response had caused me to flee.

What a horrible thing to try to sell.

The road wound before me as I came to an understanding. Sam had said that I had complete freedom to shape my experience any way I saw fit. Sam had also said that nothing in life could be taken, though everything was offered.

The question was what I had to offer the universe in return.

###

About the Author

Al Black is a pseudonym, although in that case we do not consider it much of a mystery. Al Black is actually Matthew William Parrett. Around ten years ago Matthew was attempting to flee the Queen Charlotte Islands when the Dark Lady appeared to him. Some interpretations of Gaia tell a story about a divided nature. There is the Bright Mother and the Dark Lady. Matthew was struggling at the time. Some people are born with a great deal of luck. Matthew was one of those individuals, be it good or bad. Anyway, the Dark Lady appeared and began laughing at him, crying..."The X-files Matthew, the X-files!" Matthew boarded a ferry to get off the island a day or so later. When on the ferry he walked around crying..."Its not Angels and Demons, its Aliens! Some guy got up out of his seat and said..."How dare you say that about the passengers.

So Matthew broke his fist on the poor guys chin.

Anyway, afterwards Matthew had some time to think. He came to the conclusion that A--He was completely and utterly pathetic, and that B--For some reason people participated in his insanity.

So he set out to create the best damn reality he possibly could. This book is the result.

Contact

You can contact Matthew via his Facebook account under Matthew William Parrett, or email him at songanddance1@gmail.com, or robingood46and2@gmail.com.

Favorite Matthew at Smashwords: <https://www.smashwords.com/profile/view/TillT>
