The Master opened for business as usual and prepared the small but atmospheric treatment room for a ten o’clock appointment. It would turn out to be another curious case.
A young and beautiful woman opened the door to Mysteries in a state of some agitation, saying she’d had a bizarre experience several years ago and was now being reminded of it for reasons which seemed to relate to a love affair of sorts, an affaire du coeur.
She was also aware that the extraordinary planetary activity was inclining her to share the details of her experience with someone else.
The Master was doubly intrigued when Soaring Eagle suddenly appeared to impart a message:
This described has taken place, truth recounted; sooth instate.
Sitting up very straight in the second chair, the woman took a sip of the proffered ginger tea and then broke apart the floodgate of her unique tale:
Half an hour later the Master re-emerged sans magazine or whiskey glass but clutching to heart an exceedingly large, old and important-looking volume.
The much-lamented loss of Pros Theon had abruptly ended a few short minutes after entering the small, cluttered bathroom, where it was at the bottom of an ever-increasing pile of toilet-reading material and duly rescued by its ecstatic owner.
Tremendously relieved, ten or twelve years of life added back on – a full Jupiter return! – the Master placed the book on the desk in the study, switched on the ancient desk lamp and turned to the penultimate section:
‘Los Días de la Transformación’; The Days of Transformation.
Translating and interpreting the elaborate text was a mission. It took every effort of will and much metaphorical ploughing for the book to yield its rare fruits.
After only half an hour the Master, who had a surprisingly short attention span for one given to meditating, looked up from the text and out of the window for inspiration. In that same instant a piercing set of eyes imparted the truth – a reminder – with almost unfathomable simplicity:
‘‘Forwards backwards; time is taking
Cosmic steps through every section.
Herein find the secret waiting:
Future from the past; reflection.’
Soaring Eagle then spread his wings and flew towards the Master, who felt like a very small child in that same instant and rushed towards the great bird as if pulled along on some invisible line between them.
Holy Krishna, Siddhartha Gautama, Christ the Lord, please don’t let it fall into the wrong hands! Forgive me for so carelessly misplacing it – I beg of you – let me find the book!
After at least another hour spent rearranging the whole of the small but extremely high-quality library, the Master ascertained that Pros Theon definitely was not on the bookcase. The situation had become intolerable.
For God’s sake, give me a sign!
A prayerful sound that was verging on the desperate escaped the Master’s lips, but still no response was forthcoming.
Did I put it in a safe place following the comet’s ominous portent?
This time the direct question yielded an instantaneous and equally direct response from a spirit guide.
No, you’ve lost it, man.
The Master sighed deeply. It had to be this one; why couldn’t Soaring Eagle have dropped by?
Any idea of where it could be?
Maybe it’s in the outer limit.
Yes, maybe it is, but I just need some light to be shed on where PRECISELY it is right now.
We need lights out here in the perimeter as well.
And why would that be? The Master scowled ferociously. As if we didn’t know already!
Because out here in the perimeter there are no stars, out here we are stoned….
Immaculately, yes, well, if that’s all you can say then I’d prefer it if you maybe meditated in silence or something, perhaps had a think about your shadow.
Hey, why don’t you just chill, man, it isn’t me whose lost it!
I can’t ‘just chill’ – as you so eloquently put it – until I’ve found the book. The Master leveled a thunderous glance at the ceiling.
Two more hours of anguished searching ensued, during which all the drawers were pulled inside out (the contents checked thoroughly for the first time in years) and every cupboard and closet, including the drinks cabinet, turned upside down.
Finally, giving up in despair, The Master poured a quadruple Jack Daniels and injected it with a splash of coke, smoked a large pipe full of pure marijuana and headed into the bathroom with a recent edition of Psychic Circular.
That’s the spirit, man, if you relax, it’ll find you.
