When I met him again he was no longer the most powerful man in the world. His presence was that of a harpooned whale; the aura of a sublime creature whose woundedness seemed tragic, unnatural, offensive. I felt attracted to him as much by the enduring magnetism of his character as by a sense of concern, a desire to care for him. There was a humble plea in his eyes that fought for space with their usual calm glow.
The man who years earlier had guided me through the underworld was now asking for my help. He’d summoned me to the jungle after almost a decade of silence. I had no idea how I’d find him. The last time we’d met, he told me he had nothing left to teach me. I had gone back home and tried to apply the lessons from the spirit realms to my daily life with mild success.
When I first met him, the entire makeup of my inner life was changed in a matter of days. My skepticism was shattered as I realized ‘magic’ was real… It was just a loaded word for skillful energetic play, tapping into a force that came from nature. All the ancestral rituals were just tools different peoples had found to harness it. Where my lineage had gone the way of technology and atomic power, my guru’s kind had taken the path of the mind and achieved subtler ways of manipulating reality.
The word guru is a weighty one. I considered its implications as the man on whom I bestowed that title lay exhausted in front of me. In the context of Hinduism, it simply denotes a spiritual teacher, especially one who imparts initiation. This was an accurate description of our relationship, but in the age of death cults and sexual scandals, admitting to having a guru seemed to imply a certain weakness of character.
My initiation had come in the form of synesthetic patterns, gestalts of information that sprouted from the depths of some unconscious place, wordless truths that were then translated for me by my guru.
I didn’t know much about him at first. Only that he had been my partner in crime in the assassination of my character, making room for new life to sprout in my being. Then I was gradually exposed to facts that seemed to indicate he actually had more power at his disposal than any of the world’s dictators, tech billionaires and war generals. What political might, material riches or military prowess could rival the ability to enter in an intimate dance with reality, partake in the weaving of its fabric, plant seeds that would cause infinite ripples in space-time?
Yes, my guru was a magician in the real sense of the word.. And today he was dying before me with an invisible dart planted in his throat.