CHAPTER FOUR
History Repeating Part 1
Lest We Forget
(There is still that which is undone)
For the Record: World Philosophy Day Theme, November 21, 2024 - Bridging Social Gaps. Highlighting philosophy’s vital role in mending the social fabric and fostering a more cohesive society - Ali Asgahar Feizollahi
In a small, discreet corner of the Universe unto itself, sits an alcove suspended in Space/Time with an energy force field surrounding it that can only be penetrated by a true intent by one who is true to their nature and speaks truth to power. In the alcove sits a clay jar about 3 feet high with an inscription on the exterior in glyphs of Sanskrit. On either side, there are flaming swords belonging to two ArchAngels. The first is Uriel. The second is Azrael. ArchAngels are non-denominational. They are simply, heavenly. How the story goes, is the truth bearer can only pierce the shield with the sword of Uriel. They must be able to take the truth. If they fail, the sword of death will relinquish them from any further possibility, that being their end.
Once pierced, the energy field will fall and the jar can be accessed. This is the rending of the veil. The inscription Can then be read and exercised. This will bestow the Rights of Redemption into the hands of the truth teller. The truth teller, thus bestowed, can then lift the lid of the jar and release the contents, once and for All. The contents will then rejoin Heaven and Earth as one in the same in kind and in keeping with, for God and Mortal alike. This is known as The Charge.
Every God in Heaven has the same Charge in the end. Some want to be in charge and remain in charge. That is not The Charge. Unification through a single point of Convergence behind the first degree of Separation is where the jar sits, suspended in Space/Time. All Life depends on this jar. The Final Word will loosen the lid for the contents to be released by one who is true to their Nature and the Natural Order of All Things. Each Counsel in Heaven has their own interpretation of The Charge and has structured themselves accordingly. They each work in their own way towards it. They Convene as a High Counsel to keep each other in their respective loops. This is not a competition. This is done in the true spirit of cooperation. For some. For others, they have their own way of doing things. None of it can be done without the jar. Within the jar - hope alone remains.
When the Universe is at its most hopeless and All could fall in vain, then hope alone remains the only hope. This is how it all comes full circle. I am not about to go into details about the Pantheons and other Gods and their myths that tie into the circle or The Charge. This would never get written if I tried to do that. Also, there is so much misinformation and lost in translation rhetoric that is beyond deciphering in a single source. The best I can do is to try and boil this down into a single “myth” for this time as the world sits on the brink of that aforementioned hopelessness. More and more people are feeling an utter sense of hopelessness as we near the crux. We are fast approaching the tipping point. There are still factors in play that stem the tide here and there, but The Sands of Time are continuing to slip through the Hourglass of Existence despite our best efforts to stall or stop them. Resistance is not futile but it always comes at a price. The price is usually paid in trade for a piece of our soul. If you add it all up in the end, it will cost us everything. But All is not lost on us.
Hope is the powerful force of Nature. That is why it has been held in abeyance for when it is Absolutely Necessary and Needed. What we have now instead, is wishful thinking. It can not compare to what hope really is. Some call it faith and some call it magick, but it is just wishful thinking. Hopelessness is actually hopelessness though, and it is alive and well, because it was one of the ills that made it out of the jar before Pandora put a lid on things in time so as not to tarnish the one remaining energy that could turn her lapse in judgment entirely around. This all happened because one God and one Mortal decided to do battle for supremacy. They both paid the price. Zeus trapped hope through Pandora and Prometheus failed his family and everyone as a result. Ego prevailed. Curiosity got the better of Pandora in the midst of the men vying for attention and in a moment of abandonment, while they were caught up in their pissing contest, she opened the jar she was told not to. They took their eye off the prize, and out poured everything that is wrong with the world.
Whether she was Eve taking a bit out of the Apple, or Dora opening what looked like a dusty, old harmless looking jar, neither was at fault. This is what happens when men choose Ego over what is their greatest strength. I’ll leave that up to you to decide. This is not a heterosexual proprietary right. It could have just as easily been a man either way because it is the principle that matters. This is about how we treat and view each other. No other human, God or Mortal, should be considered dispensable to one’s own Ego. Neglect has dire consequences for one’s own sake. Survival notwithstanding, the furtherance of one’s own ego at the expense of anything that sustains others, or All, creates a rift. And since Nature detests a vacuum, something inevitable comes in to fill the void. This is how we got the ills. Basically, that is what happens when you take your eye off the ball of the greater good. Not to sound preachy, but we are not solitary beings by Nature. Ego is the quest to be “the only one” of any kind. We are all unique in our own way. That is a given. No one can be the only one of any kind. That would undermine anyone else’s uniqueness. We are All one of a kind in keeping with All others. We are All as alike as we are All different. There is a point where we are all one in the same, God and Moral alike, and we differ from there. That will be the point where we All have hope. There was a point where All had hope. Until it got locked in a jar and sent away for future reference. A future reference point in Space/Time.
The saving grace in the Sands of Time is the innate and inherent desire to be hopeful that does exist in this world in many if not most of us. We don’t need to have hope to want hope. This attraction to hope is what will eventually lead to the hope and bring hope for us and to us. And as long as we want hope - hope remains. Again, full circle. That is the Beauty of it All, as it spins and turns through time. The only path to infinity is full circle. A beautiful, eternal gyroscope in the sky that continues to turn in every which direction, each with an infinite path and each path full of possibilities. That is All.
And as with every gyroscope, there must be an axis around which it spins to keep it in its rightful place. The Axis is pivotal. The axis is Absolute necessity, which leads to and from Akasha. Akasha is an Absolute must.
IN THE MEANTIME
(The Muse)
These, among other things, are what Blaze tends to muse on at the end of the day while he stares longingly into a fine drink he allows himself to take the edge off. Tonight, it is a good scotch. This was first introduced to him an eon ago through a community mortal who first brought it to Olympus in spirit (lol). With the help of a demigod, it was manifested and brought forth for their enjoyment. He did enjoy a good scotch. Typically, it brought about a warm and reassuring feeling throughout him that inspired him to determine and discern to increase his understanding of The Charge and what it required of him. Tonight, however, was a different story. And it goes something like this and from here.
Today’s Counsel had to be adjourned with all matters tabled and pending after a comment made by Ascendant Rhe sparked a heated discussion that was on the verge of making him angry as disputes began to rise on the subject of The Charge pursuant to the unification of Heaven and Earth that they were aspiring to. All they wanted was to go home and be able, once again, to live together under the same roof. They were all family. Rhe said it was too soon for them to say that and especially use that particular word. Last she remembered, but not specifically, the world which she lived in not too long ago, still viewed them as incestuous heretics and “sleazeball” Gods by comparison to those they worshiped. They preferred their Gods to be pious and virginal. A little more Jesus like and a lot less “gadabout god” type and they would need to dispense with branding themselves the “family friendly” answer to “their” problems or they would fall like “tin soldiers” in record time. They were underestimating how fervent “they” were.
Out of all that, it was the word “fervent” that stuck in his head. The other disparaging references were nothing that he hadn’t heard before, but he maintained the belief that this could all be explained and corrected through reasoning. The emphasis she had placed on “fervent” unnerved him. If they were fervent to point that they could not be reasoned with in a meaningful, and mindful manner, that changed everything. That was a whole new ballgame that could mean back to the drawing board for them. He had not considered the possibility they could not be reasoned with by Omnipotence. He cursed himself for not considering the very possibility of such. He asked her “does the truth not matter in the face of their fervor?”
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“Who’s truth? Theirs or yours?” She asked back.
“The” He responded.
“No.” She said, “Truth is not as important to them as you might think, from what I remember.”
Of course, everything hung in the balance on that. “From what she remembered” could not be trusted. Perhaps, if she were a Lordess by now, and her memory could be run through the Omnipotence she would inherit in further ascension, there could be more credit given to her memory. But in her disposition as an Ascendant, her memory served her only so far. The rest was the property of Styx and Styx would not relinquish it without a fight or an offering worthy of the divulgence. He had considered this before. Her actual memories could prove to be very helpful. So would Ambrosia. Both would be tempting Fate.
Always the dilemma. So frustrating. So tiring. So hard to get anything done when it always poses a dilemma as subject to Fate. Unlike their Originators or Elders, this generation of Olympians had to be more wary of tempting Fate. This was the New and Last Golden Age of Humankind on the Record for all they knew. There might not be another. They did not have as much latitude when it came to the Ministry of Fate. Those bitches were by far and above (as below), more fierce and feared by any of their predecessors. This Ministry of Fate pulled no punches and took no prisoners. They were All or nothing.
He knocked back the rest of his drink and decided to go have a word with Cain. Or, in this case, Khain, because this might require ancient wisdom more than interpretation with respect to The Charge. He preferred talking to Cain, the straightforward Gay God to his liking. Talking to Kahain meant talking in circles.
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Forge threw another block of hewn timber onto the fire and looked over at her. She was lost in thought while putting in her steps on that contraption she had insisted he fashion for her to “exercise” on, though she hardly needed that anymore. What an ugly addition to the place. An invention that relied on perpetual motion to work insulted him as it felt like a throwback to a former time instead of a “step” forward where it could be done for you. But, according to her, it had to be calibrated and “dialed in” to her exact needs. He had complied, because he was admittedly curious. He still resented it every time he looked at it. She thought it had form and function. By his determination, it was unnecessary and hideous. Forge knew and hated hideous. He needed no extra reminders of it in his own domain. If it weren’t for her, that monstrosity would not be here. But that brought him around to the same old question. “What to do about her?” Especially now that it was obvious, she had become his muse.
He turned his look away from her, since she was far from noticing it anyways, and glanced around his burgeoning workshop. The Forge had grown in size. The walls were lined with weapons and implements of great workmanship and design. There was something for everybody. To him, this is what work was meant for. To her, working out was life affirming. Which life she was affirming was not known. As an Ascendant, she was still reminiscent of her past while facing an uncertain future. Rhe was in Flux. Nyx safeguarded her in such and maintained that her ascension was of its own accord. No one wanted to argue the case. Or they did, but they thought better than to voice their thoughts. As such, there were limitations in place as suggested by the proper boundaries that made their living together possible. Forge would only go so far with an Ascendant, especially given his inherent deformity. Having taken matters into his own hands to rid himself of it, he had risked enough for his own sake in the Eyes of Fate. He would not take the same chance with any children of his own. He would need a Godhood in impeccable standing in their eyes to spare any children the suffering he had endured and his father had endured. He wasn’t certain he wanted children. The best way to spare them would be not to have them, but that too, might be challenging Fate to decide for him. So he left it open to interpretation while still taking every precaution. Rhe was fine with that, for now. But for how long? She knew to be determined, but not too determined, about anything.
Still, her remarks in Counsel today landed hard. A little too hard in the lap of the others. While it may have been necessary, it definitely left a mark. “Tin soldiers my ass.” He thought to himself and grunted out loud while he grabbed a dagger and flipped it through the air, catching it and testing its weight in his hand.
“I know.” She said behind him. He hadn’t realized she had finished getting in her steps for the day. Sometimes he counted. Sometimes he didn’t, knowing she always did.
“I fucked up.” She continued while she wiped the non-existent sweat from her brow and pits. “I was trying to help. It didn’t come out right.”
She sat and stared at nothing in front of her.
“It’s fine.” He assured her half-heartedly. “They needed to hear it. You might have phrased one or two things differently to make it more palatable, but you are not one to mince words.”
She nodded. She wondered if that’s why she was here now. Because she didn’t. She took a slug of water from her bottomless chalice he made her. It was far more awkward than a water bottle, which she would have preferred, but that was a small thing. She tried not to bother with the small things anymore.
She looked at him carefully, so as not to display anything too uncomfortable for him.
“For the record, I do not think of anyone here as Tin Soldiers. That is just how the world is. I’ve always been an Olympian in my mind.”
It was as though she could read his mind at times. Scary thought.
“But you are the exception. Not the Rule.” He reminded her.
“Not necessarily.” She said very matter of factly.
His skin prickled. He knew this sensory reaction he had to her and that tone of voice. She was going to say something he would not be able to forget or dismiss. Again. He tried not to ask but it came out anyway.
“How so?”
“Well it would depend on how many of them ever dreamed of winning a Gold Medal.”
And there it was. An idea came to him. The Alchemist in him understood. The Olympian in him definitely understood. Family only went so far. It did not go far enough. That was what she was trying to say. It would get bogged down in the details. That would make them Tin Soldiers in their fervor. Ripe for the picking off. However, going for the gold is how they saw them still, to this day. They needed to not sell themselves short. He looked over at the other contraption she had insisted on.
“Fuck.” He said. He had learned to like that word a lot, in all its interpretations since she showed up.
“What’s that now?” she asked him slyly.
“Fuck you,” he muttered somewhat angrily. “You didn’t fuck up and you know it. You are on the right track.” He pointed at the treadmill she had also insisted on.
She, on the other hand, did not take her eyes off him. This always made him uncomfortable. He had never liked being looked at directly. His looks displeased him. She did not share his opinion of them. She saw him the way she saw him. He wished he knew what that was but also, did not want to know for his sake. Her gaze lingered. His loins started to stir.
“Only if it’s the inside track.” She said, her voice low while she leaned back.
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In a farther off part of Heaven, a Lord and Savior prepared for his Second Coming.
Four Men fed their horses on the ills of the world, happily chatting amongst their dark selves. Eventually this would break down and turn ugly as they would begin to argue over who gets what ills for what reason. This marks their descent - into madness.
A God the Father watched over his children with eyes wide open.
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On Earth, a Saint took flowers to the grave of his long lost girlfriend. He had just been released from prison for manslaughter, because he swore up and down that it had been an accident. In the end, the jury had believed him but the judge, not so sure, gave him the maximum. Two-thirds of his sentence later, thanks to good behavior, he was finally out. But he would never be free.
Behind him, in the distance, stood an old, lonely man, keeping his well worn eyes on the Saint of Ill Repute. In his frail, elderly hands, he also held flowers - for his long lost daughter. He has a name. Few speak it these days though.
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The River Styx, sensing upheaval, began to churn. Marianas felt the water churn in the depths of her soul. She checked the hourglass, but as of yet, there was nary a sand out of place. Still, she felt time was never more of the Essence than now. She sensed that word changed everything. She had trembled when she first heard it and now, she trembled again just thinking of it. Fervent.
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Somewhere, in a farther part of the same Underworld, a Fallen Angel smiled, baring his teeth and biding his time. Fervent indeed.
Footnote: In a few days, The High Counsel of Heaven was set to Convene.