Since yesterday the curtains have remained drawn down and the door shut and nary a sound that I can discern has escaped - the Gentleman is as a dead man. Surely there is much he wishes to recover from and rest and quiet is a good start. It is nice to have his company, his presence, even if all he does is nothing (I might add some humor here but instead I will practice restraint).
She has asked that I come to her and spend an afternoon at her knee, in the room of lit candles and vibrations (think: liberty bell pinged but deeper more correctly) and still the invitation, days later, remains unanswered. My hands have cupped her face (the tiny ridge of a nose, the cleanest skin, lips: of course soft but not mush but firm as needed by one who speaks directly, commands). And I have felt, marveled at, how quickly she has learned my ways and discarded my diversions and distractions and insisted on now and knowing, as it should/must be in the room of lit candles and vibrations which for no good reason I care to admit I avoid.
I am six days into the Time of Quiet and already I notice a profound effect: the surge of power in my (still) decidedly frail body that reaches past the pains and complaints that halt my movement, that insist on an order of healing, living, and spills into the place where words and thoughts and feeling must have their way and the desire to reach others, connect, laugh, share, sit awkwardly (or roll words in your mouth) waits for some of us to wake the hell up. For this I am grateful. But also my senses have been re-awakened, now obscenely heightened compared to just last week, and I try to believe it is analogous to a man awakening from a deep sleep in a lightless room into a midday sun, the accompanying shock and recoil, the disorientation. Yes that but. The Sorcerer has his minions everywhere I look listen feel and they are a purposeful crew and it is growing apparent to me that I am in his debt and he will be paid. I know I am not strong enough to fight (yet?) so what to do what to do? And of course I will do as always: delay doing as long as possible, and then a bit longer.
Her manner reminded me of a lady dead ten years now and one who I wasn't that fond of before she became dead. So I could have done without this reminder, particularly when I was paying. Christ! A sloppy woman turning things over here and there and every time her mouth opened a scalded soup of words, charred and bitter and foul smelling. So I found myself provoked and I am proud to report that at least I proved up to this fight and I lanced her directly more than once (the squealing while quite shrill was still satisfying) and cuffed her several more times (although this produced the worst awful guttural oozing - Christ! again, barely human). This was likely the worst elongated encounter I've had in recent memory and while I feel that I acquitted myself sufficiently I wonder how I might have behaved sans the Time of Quiet - and of course this is quite unknowable so there is no good reason to wonder other than to keep myself occupied considering inconsequential matters while pressing business, like the Goddess's invitation, and the Sorcerer's debt, remain unattended.
I hear footsteps - it may be the Gentleman stirring. I should make coffee.