"One more thing? But you said that was it!'
"It's quite easy. You simply have to dream of a dress, the dress you will wear on the day."
"And what if I can't."
"You will. You've done the most difficult part."
And then, as so often, she changed the subject. She told Brida that she'd bought a new car and needed to do some shopping. Would Brida like to go with her?
Brida was proud to be invited and asked her boss if she could leave work early. It was the first time Wicca had shown her any kind of affection, even if it was only an invitation to join her on a shopping trip. She knew that many of Wicca's other students would love to be in her shoes.
Perhaps that afternoon would provide her with a chance to show Wicca how important she was to her and how much she wanted to be her friend. It was difficult for Brida to separate friendship from the spiritual search, and she was hurt because, up until then, her teacher had never shown the slightest interest in her private life. Their conversations never went beyond what Brida needed to know in order to work within the Tradition of the Moon.
At the appointed hour, Wicca was waiting outside in a red MG convertible, with the top down. The car, a British classic, was exceptionally well preserved, with gleaming bodywork and a polished wooden dashboard. Brida didn't even dare hazard a guess at how much it must have cost. The idea that a witch should own such an expensive car frightened her a little. Before she'd known anything about the Tradition of the Moon, she'd heard all kinds of tales in her childhood about witches making terrible pacts with the Devil in exchange for money and power.
"Isn't it a bit cold to drive with the top down?" she asked as she got in.
"I can't wait until summer," Wicca said, "I just can't. I've been aching to go for a drive like this for ages."
That was good. At least, in this respect, she was like any other normal person.
They drove through the streets, receiving admiring glances from older passers-by and a few wolf whistles and compliments from men.
"It's a good sign that you're worried about not being able to dream about the dress," said Wicca. Brida, however, had already forgotten about their phone conversation.
"Never stop having doubts. If you ever do, it will be because you've stopped moving forward, and at that point, God will step in and pull the rug out from under your feet, because that is His way of controlling His chosen ones, by making sure they always follow their appointed path to the end. If, for any reason, we stop, whether out of complacency, laziness, or out of a mistaken belief that we know enough, He forces us on.
"On the other hand, you must be careful never to allow doubt to paralyze you. Always take the decisions you need to take, even if you're not sure you're doing the right thing. You'll never go wrong if, when you make a decision, you keep in mind an old German proverb that the Tradition of the Moon has adopted: 'The Devil is in the detail.' Remember that proverb and you'll always be able to turn a wrong decision into a right one."
Wicca suddenly stopped outside a garage.
"There's a superstition connected to that proverb, too," she said. "It only comes to our aid when we need it. I've just bought this car, and the Devil is in the detail."
She got out as soon as a mechanic came over to her.
"Is the hood broken, Madam?"
Wicca didn't even answer. She asked him to check the car over for her, and while he was working, the two women sat and drank hot chocolate in a cafe across the street.
"Watch what the mechanic does," Wicca said, looking across at the garage. He had the hood up and was standing, staring at the engine, not even moving.
"He's not touching anything. He's just looking. He's done this job for years, and he knows that the car speaks to him in a special language. It's not his reason that's working now, it's his intuition."
Suddenly, the mechanic went straight to one particular part of the engine and starting fiddling with it.
"He's found the fault," Wicca went on. "He didn't waste a moment, because between him and the car there is perfect communication. Every good mechanic I've ever known has been the same."
"So have the mechanics I've known," thought Brida, but she'd always assumed they behaved that way because they didn't know where to start. She'd never noticed that they always started in the right place.
"If they have the wisdom of the Sun in their lives, why don't they try to understand the fundamental questions of the Universe? Why do they prefer to fix cars or work in a bar serving coffee?"
"And what makes you think that we, with our path and our dedication, understand the Universe any better than other people?
"I have many students. They're all perfectly ordinary people, who cry at the movies and worry if their children come home late, even though they know that death is not the end. Witchcraft is merely one way of being close to the Supreme Wisdom, but anything you do can lead you there, as long as you work with love in your heart. We witches can converse with the Soul of the World, see the point of light above the left shoulder of our Soul Mate, and contemplate the infinite through the glow and silence of a candle, but we don't understand car engines. Mechanics need us as much as we need them. They find their bridge across to the invisible in a car engine, while we find ours in the Tradition of the Moon, but the bridge connects to the same invisible world.
"Play your part and don't worry about what others do. Believe that God also speaks to them, and that they are as engaged as you are in discovering the meaning of life."
"The car's fine," said the mechanic, when they went back to the garage, "apart from a hose that was about to burst. And that could have caused you serious problems."
Wicca haggled a little over the price, but she was very glad that she'd remembered the proverb.
They went to one of Dublin's main shopping streets, which also happened to be the location of the shop that Brida had once had to visualize as part of an exercise. Whenever the conversation turned to personal topics, Wicca would respond vaguely or evasively, but she spoke with great verve about trivial matters--prices, clothes, rude shop assistants. Everything she bought that afternoon revealed sophistication and good taste.
Brida knew that it wasn't the done thing to ask someone where she got her money, but so great was her curiosity that she came very close to violating that most elementary rule of politeness.
They ended up in a Japanese restaurant, with a dish of sashimi before them.
"May God bless our food," said Wicca. "We are all sailors on an unknown sea; may He make us brave enough to accept this mystery."
"But you're a Teacher of the Tradition of the Moon," said Brida. "You know the answers."
Wicca sat for a moment, absorbed, looking at the food. Then she said:
"I know how to travel between the present and the past. I know the world of the spirits, and I've communed with forces so amazing that no words in any language could describe them. I could perhaps say that I possess the silent knowledge of the journey that has brought the human race to where it is at this moment.
"But because I know all this, and because I am a Teacher, I also know that we will never ever know the ultimate reason for our existence. We might know the how, where, and when of being here, but the why will always be a question that remains unanswered. The main objective of the great Architect of the Universe is known to Him alone, and to no one else."
A silence fell.
"Right now, while we're here eating, ninety-nine percent of the people on this planet are, in their own way, struggling with that very question. Why are we here? Many think they've found the answer in religion or in materialism. Others despair and spend their lives and their money trying to grasp the meaning of it all. A few let the question go unanswered and live for the moment, regardless of the results or the consequences.
"Only the brave and those who understand the Traditions of the Sun and the Moon are aware that the only possible answer to the question is I DON'T KNOW.
"This might, at first, seem frig
htening, leaving us terribly vulnerable in our dealings with the world, with the things of the world, and with our own sense of our existence. Once we've got over that initial fear, however, we gradually become accustomed to the only possible solution: to follow our dreams. Having the courage to take the steps we always wanted to take is the only way of showing that we trust in God.
"As soon as we accept this, life takes on a sacred meaning, and we experience the same emotion the Virgin must have felt when, one afternoon in her otherwise very ordinary existence, a stranger appeared to her and made her an offer. 'Be it unto me according to thy word,' said the Virgin. Because she had understood that the greatest thing a human being can do is to accept the Mystery."
After another long silence, Wicca again took up her knife and fork and resumed her meal. Brida looked at her, proud to be by her side. She wasn't bothered now by the questions she would never ask, about how Wicca earned her money or if she was in love with someone or jealous of someone else. She thought about the greatness of soul of the true sages, sages who had spent their entire life searching for an answer that did not exist, but who were not tempted to invent an answer when they realized there was none. Instead, they carried on humbly inhabiting a Universe they would never understand. The only way they could truly participate was by following their own desires, their own dreams, because that is how man becomes an instrument of God.
"So what's the point of looking for an answer then?"
"We don't look for an answer, we accept, and then life becomes much more intense, much more brilliant, because we understand that each minute, each step that we take, has a meaning that goes far beyond us as individuals. We realize that somewhere in time and space this question does have an answer. We realize that there is a reason for us being here, and for us, that is enough.
"We plunge into the Dark Night with faith, we fulfill what the ancient alchemists used to call our Personal Legend, and we surrender ourselves fully to each moment, knowing that there is always a hand to guide us, and whether we accept it or not is entirely up to us."
That night, Brida spent hours listening to music, entirely given over to the miracle of being alive. She thought about her favorite authors. One of them--the English poet William Blake--had, with just one simple phrase, given her enough faith to go in search of wisdom.
What is now proved was once only imagin'd.
It was time to perform one of her rituals. She would spend the next few minutes contemplating a candle flame, and to do so, she sat down before the little altar. The process of contemplation took her back to the afternoon when she and Lorens had made love among the rocks. There were seagulls flying as high as the clouds and as low as the waves.
The fish must have asked themselves how they managed to fly, these mysterious creatures who plunged into their world, then left as quickly as they entered.
The birds must have asked themselves how the creatures they fed on and that lived beneath the waves could possibly manage to breathe under water.
Birds existed and fish existed. Theirs were universes that occasionally collided, but they could not answer each other's questions. And yet both had questions, and the questions had answers.
Brida looked at the flame before her, and a magical atmosphere began to grow around her. This was what normally happened, but that night, the feeling was more intense.
If she were capable of asking a question, it was because, in another Universe, there was an answer. Someone knew it, even if she didn't. She didn't need to understand the meaning of life; it was enough to find someone who did, and then fall asleep in his arms and sleep as a child sleeps, knowing that someone stronger than you is protecting you from all evil and all danger.
When the ritual was over, she said a little prayer in gratitude for the steps she had so far taken. She was grateful because the first person she had asked about magic hadn't tried to explain the Universe to her; instead, he had made her spend the whole night in a dark forest.
She needed to go there and thank him for all he had taught her.
Whenever she went in search of that man, she was looking for something; whenever she found that something, all she did was leave, often without even saying good-bye. But he had shown her the door through which she hoped to pass at the next Equinox. She should at least say "thank you."
No, she wasn't afraid of falling in love with him. She had read things in Lorens's eyes about the hidden side of her own soul, and while she might have her doubts about being able to dream of a dress, as regards his love, about that she was perfectly clear.
Thank you for accepting my invitation," she said to the Magus when they sat down. They were sitting in the only pub in the village, which is where she had first noticed the strange light in his eyes.
The Magus said nothing. He noticed that her energy was quite different now; she had clearly managed to awaken the Force.
"On the night you left me alone in the forest, I promised that I'd come back either to thank you or to curse you. I promised that I'd come back when I found my path. But I didn't keep either of those promises. I always came in search of help, and you never let me down. It may be presumptuous of me, but I want you to know that you have acted as God's instrument, and I would like you to be my guest tonight."
Just as she was about to order two whiskies, he got up, went over to the bar, and returned carrying two bottles, one of wine and one of mineral water, and two glasses.
"In Ancient Persia," he said, "when two people met to drink together, one of them was chosen to be King of the Night, usually the person who was paying."
He didn't know if his voice sounded sufficiently steady. He was a man in love, and Brida's energy had changed.
He placed the wine and the mineral water before her.
"It was up to the King of the Night to set the tone of the conversation. If he poured more water than wine into the first glass to be drunk, that meant he wished to speak of serious things. If he poured equal quantities of both, they would speak of both serious and pleasant things. Finally, if he filled the glass with wine and added only a few drops of water, the night would be relaxing and enjoyable."
Brida filled the glasses to the brim with wine and added only a drop of water to each.
"I came to say thank you," she said again, "for teaching me that life is an act of faith, and that I am worthy of the search. That has helped me enormously on the path I've chosen."
They both drained that first glass quickly. He because he was feeling tense. She because she was feeling relaxed.
"Only light subjects, all right?" Brida said.
The Magus said that since she was the King of the Night, it was up to her to decide what they should talk about.
"I want to know a little about your personal life. I want to know if you ever had an affair with Wicca."
He nodded. Brida felt an inexplicable tremor of jealousy, but she wasn't sure whether she felt jealous of him or of Wicca.
"But we never considered living together," he said. They both knew the two Traditions. They both knew that they were not each other's Soul Mate.
"I didn't want to learn how to see the point of light," thought Brida, but she saw now that this was inevitable. That was what love between witches was like.
She drank a little more. She was getting closer to her objective; it would not be long now until the Spring Equinox, and she could afford to relax. It had been a long time since she had allowed herself to drink more than she should, but now, all she had to do was dream of a dress.
They continued talking and drinking. Brida wanted to return to the subject of Wicca, but she needed him to be more relaxed, too. She kept both their glasses filled, and they finished the first bottle while in the middle of a conversation about the difficulties of living in such a small village. The locals associated the Magus with the Devil.
Brida was pleased to feel important to him; he must be very lonely. Maybe no one in the village ever addressed more than a few polite words to him. They opened another
bottle, and she was surprised to see that a Magus, a man who spent all day in the forest seeking communion with God, was also capable of drinking and getting drunk.
By the time they had finished the second bottle, she had forgotten that she was there in order to thank the man sitting opposite her. Her relationship with him--she realized now--had always been a veiled challenge. She didn't want to see him as an ordinary person, but she was getting dangerously close to doing just that. She preferred the image of the wise man who had led her to a cabin high up in the trees and who often spent hours contemplating the sunset.
She began to talk about Wicca, to see how he reacted. She said what an excellent Teacher she was and how she had taught her everything she needed to know so far, but in such a subtle way that it was as if she'd always known the things she was learning.
"But you have," said the Magus. "That is the Tradition of the Sun."
"He's obviously not going to admit that Wicca is a good teacher," thought Brida. She drank another glass of wine and continued to talk about her Teacher, but the Magus made no further comment.
"Tell me about you and her," she said, to see if she could provoke him. She didn't want to know, she really didn't, but it was the best way to get a reaction.
"A case of young love. We were part of a generation that knew no limits, the generation of the Beatles and the Rolling Stones."
She was surprised to hear this. Far from relaxing her, the wine was making her tense. She still wanted to ask those questions, but now she realized that she wasn't happy with the answers.
"That was when we met," he went on, unaware of her feelings. "We were both seeking our respective paths, and they crossed when we happened to go to the same Teacher. Together we learned about the Tradition of the Sun and the Tradition of the Moon, and both, in our own fashion, became Teachers."
Brida decided to pursue the subject. Two bottles of wine can make complete strangers feel as if they have been friends from childhood; wine gives people courage.
"Why did you split up?"
It was the Magus's turn to order another bottle. She noticed this and grew even more tense. She would hate to find out that he was still in love with Wicca.